Super Mario: Wane of Wonders
by corbinjimmy
Summary: Super Mario meets high fantasy in a tale of the Mushroom Kingdom in peril. Peach, safe in her castle, seeks help from new allies in an effort to defeat Bowser. Mario, without a Princess to save, struggles to be the hero-until a drastic series of events leads him on a journey that could change the course of the war. A semi-complete story, but reviews are greatly appreciated.
1. Prologue

He never imagined that he would see a site as breathtaking as the Shimmering Falls. He had heard tales of its sheer enormity, but realizing its complete dominance over the rugged landscape, and hearing the deafening roar of the falling water as it continued its journey down the Coinrush, was an entirely different experience. Such grand attributes made it difficult for the soldier to believe that this powerful force of the world could be stopped. _But this is what we have come to destroy_, he knew. _And we cannot fail._

In truth, the Hammer Bro had never seen a waterfall before. Having spent almost his entire life in the Koopa Kingdom, Bowser's fiery and desolate domain, he was used to finding water in wells far beneath the rock surface—not falling from such great heights. Lava and magma were the lifeblood of his homeland. They spewed from the peaks of lofty mountains, cascaded down the slopes of high hills, and filled the basins that divided the lowlands. The soldier even recalled seeing lava falls in his youth, perilous creations that left anyone who ventured too close to the bubbling bottom with terrible burns, or worse.

Upon laying eyes on this waterfall, however, the Hammer Bro sensed anything but danger. The steady pounding of the three-tiered falls, growing ever louder as the troops advanced, nevertheless soothed the approaching observer. He found himself wanting to run his fingers through the rushing water, to remove his helmet to let the thick mists cool his sweaty face. Being so close to such an immense and eternal work of nature would surely be life-changing, he thought.

_No. Not eternal_, the Hammer Bro quickly reminded himself. He suddenly looked away from the falls, to find himself back amongst his comrades. Dozens of rows back, and several columns inward, he was just another body amidst the masses, another soldier getting closer to his target. He looked at those to his left, and at those to his right—a seemingly endless number of Hammer Bros. clad in various colors depending on their rank. A few were even tasked with leading ravenous Chain Chomps, a duty which he himself did not envy. The beasts were hard enough to keep contained—attempting to direct them through the ranks was a perilous task, one that required the combined efforts of multiple men per Chomp if there was even to be a chance of controlling it. The entire legion was marching down a wide dirt road, parallel to the peaceful river so in contrast with the tumultuous falls just upstream.

They had been given their orders several days before, and capturing the posts around the Shimmering Falls was the first in their list of objectives. The legion had departed the Command Camp soon after, with other legions sent away with similar missions. All were to bring ruin to the Mushroom Kingdom, or perish in the attempt.

The Hammer Bro looked up at the falls again, and seemed to awaken from a deep slumber. Despite all he had been told, despite his duty to his commanding officer, and despite his obligation to an even greater power, he could not help but wonder: _what am I doing here? What are we all doing here?_

For years he had been trained as a soldier in the Koopa Kingdom, just as his older brothers and father and grandfather before him. He could throw projectiles just as well as any other in his class, but preferred the hammer above them all. In battle, one can always tell where a hammer is going. A boomerang is a different matter and rarely ever returns the way one wants, the soldier had learned in his youth.

His mastery in weapons may have distinguished him amongst his fellow soldiers, but his lack of another quality had always held him back—a quality that his teachers, and Bowser himself, had stressed above all others, even skill with weapons and swiftness in battle. It was the ability to be indifferent to the task at hand, to not question one's superior, to carry out a command without thought, which the soldier could never fully grasp. His curiosity always got the better of him. It was the reason why, rather than attaining the rank of lieutenant or some other esteemed title, he had spent his entire military career as a lowly private.

His superiors had explained this to him, but he hadn't believed them. He had never fought in a real battle, and had never been sent out on a mission. How could they know how he would act, when put to the test?

But now he himself could tell them that they had all been right, if he ever desired as much. _I do not want to do this_, he realized suddenly, horrified that he had even had such a rebellious thought. _The years of work, a lifetime lost—what had it all been for? To take orders that I don't fully understand?_ He would leave now, before it all began.

But the steady and synchronous marching of the thousands of feet within his legions crushed any hopes he might have had of escape. Literally—with his brothers surrounding him on either side, to stop would mean a sure and painful death by trampling. And so he plodded along, doubting himself more with every step.

Minutes later they slowed their pace, and the silence among the Hammer Bro columns was nearly tangible. _So comes the battle_, thought the weary soldier, not truly knowing what that meant. The ranks entered the clouds of mist, blinding the private to all but those closest to him. No commanders to follow, and no enemies in sight. He held his breath, a sense of fear creeping up inside him.

And all at once it began. Perhaps it was the sudden sound of trumpets, emanating from high above, or the answering battle cries of his nearby comrades. More likely it was the Falls themselves—their crashing waters loudest of all—that washed away the soldier's thoughts of fleeing, and his fleeting sense of fear. His soldierly instincts, ingrained within him as a youth, seized control. The Hammer Bro. found himself taking up the cries of his brothers as he joined them in their assault, forgetting his former trepidation. He could feel the Falls' mists collecting on his leathery skin, as well as the occasional splash of water, so close was he know to the base of the Falls. He heard shouts from above, and seconds later rocks and other weapons came hurtling down alongside the falling water, crashing off the glistening cliffside, and ricocheting off the helmets of those around him. Many collapsed, never to move again.

As the realities of war materialized before his eyes, the Hammer Bro no longer cared about his mission. He could see no glory to be obtained here, no enemy to attack—only his friends, fallen all around him, were visible. Some of his comrades rushed on, up the hills on either side, likely to meet the invisible enemies they thought awaited them. But the private did not join the courageous—_the foolish_, he thought to himself—and, going against all he had been taught, ran towards the curtain of water in front of him. For refuge, for solace, or for the sake of curiosity, he truly did not know. But all at once he was engulfed in its mighty, aqueous embrace, and knew no more.


	2. Chapter I: The Letter (Pt 1)

**Chapter One: The Letter (Part One)**

_Dear Mario,_

_I am having a party at the castle Friday evening._

_It would mean ever so much to me if you would come._

_With Love,_

_Princess Toadstool (Peach)_

The moment she signed her name, Peach knew that her attempt at a cordial invitation was pointless. She could never send this letter to Mario. Not after all that had happened.

Nevertheless, she found herself going through her usual routine of preparing a letter for send-off. She carefully folded her cream-colored parchment into thirds; neatly inserted it into a crisp white envelope; gently poured a small dollop of hot pink wax over the flap, and firmly fixed her customary seal—a three-pointed, diamond-studded crown; and, lastly, wrote Mario's name in swift strokes with her favorite black ink on the opposite side. All the while the high sun overhead, piercing through the skylight of her solar, bathed Peach and her writing desk in a golden light. Anyone walking in on the Princess at that moment would have thought they were observing some other-worldly being performing a timeless and sacred ritual.

_He'll understand_, thought Peach, now thinking better of the properly packaged letter in her hand.

It was the same invitation she had sent to Mario dozens of times over the years. Peach had always been so consistent in her wording, despite the growth of their relationship over time, that the letter functioned more as a running joke than an actual summons. For Mario, such formalities were wholly unnecessary—as the Princess' Sworn Protector, he usually knew about any event taking place in the castle before a guest list was even made. Yet Peach always sent him an invitation whenever the opportunity arose, and Mario never seemed to question it.

_He won't_, another voice in the Princess' head chimed in. _This isn't like the other times_.

She knew that this was true. Such an invitation had often been a precursor to catastrophe in the past, with Bowser storming the castle to kidnap her in some form or another not long after the party or festival in question. This letter, on the other hand, had been constructed in already troubling times. _The Koopa King could hardly make matters worse by kidnapping me now_, the Princess thought to herself sullenly.

For months now, Peach had spent many sleepless nights thinking about the horrors Bowser's forces were now unleashing throughout the Kingdom. She thought of all the citizens who had pleaded for her help at court, recounting the loss of their homes at the hands of bob-ombs, boos, or some other adversary. She thought of all the families seeking refuge within the capital of Toad Town; despite being forced to live in shelters or even on the streets, they claimed to feel safer within the city walls, so close to the Princess and her royal protection.

_But how long can I protect them?_ She often wondered. Peach thought about her own time in the clutches of Bowser, wishing that it was again her that he was after, and not her Kingdom in its entirety. It was easy for the Princess to comfort herself during her kidnaping; she had gone through it so many times, always knowing deep down that Mario would come to her aid. But to comfort thousands of people, all victims of Bowser's wrath, was something entirely new to Peach. Could she be the hero for all of them, like Mario had always been for her?

_I must be_, she had resolved some weeks ago. _Bowser has taken me for a damsel in distress for far too long. I am not just a princess, but a kingdom's ruler and a commander of armies. He will soon rue the day he attacked my people, and left me free to retaliate._

Despite this firm resolution and all of her recent efforts, Peach had thus far failed in thwarting the armies now terrorizing her lands. She had never been a military strategist, but her recent clashes with Bowser's troops had been nothing short of embarrassing. Even though her generals and military advisers took responsibility for their losses on the battlefield, the Princess couldn't help but blame herself.

It had made perfect sense to her—when reports of the enemy capturing strongholds in the Highlands along the Mushroom Kingdom's northern borders reached the capital—to deploy a large portion of her own army to retake the Goomba-populated cities. But, during the campaign, word had reached her that another army was torching the Grasslands in the west. Several yoshi herds had identified the raiders as minions of Bowser.

"An attack on two fronts!" Toadstone, the mayor of Toad Town, had exclaimed, in a state of utter panic upon hearing the news during one of their council meetings. "We must send troops at once! We cannot let Bowser take more of the Kingdom!"

"The Grasslands are vast, and rather unimportant," Toadsworth had added. He was the only one of the group who was not noticeably shocked by the news. "Let Bowser do what he wants with them for now. Princess, we must focus our efforts on retaking Steepside and the rest of the Highlands; let the yoshis worry about the west for now. If the twelve herds could set aside their differences and band together for once, there isn't an army in the world that they couldn't defeat."

The council eventually agreed with the cold old toad's counsel. So many of their resources came from the north, they all knew; expelling the Koopa Kingdom from it and reopening trade routes were of the utmost importance to the realm. Still, the thought of abandoning so many of her people in the West was one of the first troubles to keep Peach awake at night….

…But it had certainly not been the last. The fortunes of the Mushroom Kingdom crumbled in more ways than one in the ensuing weeks. First, the council had received word that their armies in the North had thus far been unsuccessful in their attempts to retake any of the strongholds previously held by Highland lords. The enemy literally held the high ground, and was more than adequately equipped to ward off any ground-level attacks. Watchmen had reported that many of the Monty Moles—mine workers, indentured servants to the Goombas in all but name—had since turned on their masters, and were now operating the cannons that were crippling the Mushroom army below.

"We must call them back!" mayor Toadstone had shouted, his jowls jiggling as they always did in such an agitated state. He often yelled whenever contributing to council discussions, as if this would better persuade others to do as he saw fit. "We need the time to re-strategize. And in the meantime, perhaps the soldiers can help to restore some order in the capital!" He shot an accusatory glance at Toadburg, the largest of his species Peach had ever known, and the head of the City Watch. Toadstone had made quite clear his opinion that the officer had done very little to control the influx of refugees into Toad Town since the start of the war.

Again, Toadsworth disagreed with the mayor. "The enemy cannot stay in the high hills forever," he informed the rest of the group. "They will soon need food and other resources. It seems that we must send more air troops to aid in the assault; but, in the meantime, we must not let our remaining forces out of their sight. They need to know that they are surrounded."

But soon enough, it was Bowser that had surrounded them—not just the forces in the North, but the entire Mushroom Kingdom. His flag was seen in the Riverlands east of the capital, borne by armies capturing cities along the Coinrush; and further south, atop large ships raiding the fishing villages of the Shorelands. All five of the outlying regions of the realm were now in Bowser's control, a blow that had left even Toadsworth speechless. For once, he had no advice to offer the Princess and the other councilmen, and retired to his study not long after hearing the news. While their forces were called back from the Highlands and stationed outside of the city walls, and citizens from all over the kingdom flooded into the capital, and Peach did all she could to comfort her people and maintain order in Toad Town, her oldest and most trusted adviser remained locked in his quarters for weeks, not even venturing out for meals.

Yet he had not been idle, she had later realized. Still clutching her letter to Mario in her hand, Peach's eyes wandered to the other letter that lay open on her desk. It was written on dark brown parchment, so coarse that the Princess had ruined a pair of her white gloves in her effort to open it two nights ago. But the words had not been so affected by the harshness of the paper—their meaning had been clear enough to her.

It was a letter from Toadsworth himself—the first since she had received since dispatching him on his mission two weeks previously. He informed her that his efforts had not been in vain; and that, if everything went according to plan in the coming weeks, they would soon have the aid they needed to retake the kingdom.

A glimmer of hope had overtaken Peach upon first reading the letter—but it faded quickly. They were risking so much, seeking help from such a mysterious people. _The Redwood Kingdom_. Peach repeated the name constantly, as if saying it over and over would enlighten her about them. _The Oakhelms_.

It was evidence of the current danger facing her Kingdom, that Peach heeded Toadsworth's advice to seek an alliance with a Kingdom and family she knew next to nothing about. "They may be our only hope in defeating Bowser—not only for the present, but forever," he had told her, after detailing his recent correspondence with officials in the Redwood Kingdom.

The Princess had received infrequent tidings of the kingdom in the far east over the past few years. She had been impressed with whoever had succeeded in uniting much of the woodlands clans under a single ruler, but had never given it more thought than that. They had always seemed so far away, their worlds separated by a seemingly endless forest. Now, with the fate of the Mushroom Kingdom seemingly in their hands, Peach wished that she had learned more about them.

Fortunately Toadsworth had been impressed with what he had seen. As he outlined in his letter, the Oakhelms were a strong, fair-ruling family, and he thought that she herself would find their kingdom "a beauty to behold"—a phrase she could never imagine Toadsworth repeating in person. The rest was written in his usual curt manner. "Met royal family in stronghold at outskirts of realm," he continued. "Boast of prosperity of cities, and foster countless armies. They agree an alliance would be wise."

_An alliance_. The thought comforted and frightened Peach all at once. She and Toadsworth had discussed conditions of negotiation prior to his departure, but there was no mention of any of them in his brief letter. How far had Toadsworth had to go to broker such a deal? Surely he would have mentioned if he had had to resort to their final proposal…but Peach did not want to think about that now. _I will discover all when he arrives_.

She of course had agreed with Toadsworth's advice that they, in reciprocation, host the royal family in the Mushroom Kingdom. It had taken much convincing on his part to get the Oakhelms to travel through such dangerous territory, but he told her that they had agreed to come at her request. Peach had responded promptly, but it seemed rather pointless to do so—Toadsworth implied that he was already on his way, with the Oakhelm retinue, whether she consented or not.

Despite the Redwood King's impending arrival—or perhaps because of it—Peach was more skeptical of the meeting every day. _It's Mario's fault_, she thought again, clenching his letter a little too tightly at the thought of him. She saw the creases in the envelope made by her constricted hand, but found that she didn't care.

Peach placed the letter on her desk and arose from her chair. The heat from the blazing sun was suddenly overbearing in the stuffy air of her solar. She picked up the train of her dress and stepped out of the golden spotlight, heading for the stained glass double-doors that opened to her garden terrace. Upon crossing the threshold, a cool breeze welcomed her—she smiled at such a greeting. Sadly, it did nothing to rid the thought of Mario from her mind.

The arrival of the Redwood Kingdom had only re-fueled the fire of what seemed to be a never-ending argument between the Princess and her Sworn Protector. It had all started with Mario's request to lead the attack on the Highlands himself over two months ago.

"I cannot allow that," Peach had replied, hoping she would not have to give him a reason. "Because I need you protect me," she would have told him. _Because I can't bear to lose you,_ she would have thought_. _

But, even after asking several more times, as armies sprouted up all throughout the realm, Mario never questioned her decision. They never argued about her refusal to let him fight, or his constant appeal to do so. Instead, their anger with one another often took form in petty disputes during council meetings, where they debated the schedule of guards or the times of their next meetings for no reason whatsoever. The feuds always left Peach feeling embarrassed after the fact; but they were the only way she could let out her frustration with him. She figured he retaliated for the very same reason.

"Might want someone else protecting you, don't you think?" Toadburg asked her after a particularly nasty dispute over the weekly menu for the city's soup kitchens. "I'd be more than willing to take on the duty myself, Princess."

But Peach knew, deep down, that there was no questioning Mario's loyalty to her. Nothing had ever stopped him from leaving the city and fighting in the war, and yet he had never gone against Peach's orders. Despite the woes of the kingdom at large, he had chosen to stay by her side.

Peach looked out from the terrace balcony, beyond the expansive lushness of the castle grounds. She knew that Mario was out there somewhere in the bustling city. _Restless and angry with me, no doubt_. She could never fail to sense his presence. It comforted her to know that, in her struggle to protect her people, there was someone out there who was always watching over her.

A wave of guilt suddenly fell upon Peach. She felt silly for fighting with Mario about something so foolish—over something that could be resolved by simply telling the truth. _I care about you too much_, was all that she would have to say. Maybe it was the cool breeze that had cleared her head and made everything seem so simple; her mind of late was often troubled with so many other thoughts. But she immediately knew what she needed to do: she needed to speak to Mario, face-to-face. And she needed to destroy that letter.

As Peach returned to her solar, she did not notice the small smile that her face had adopted. She had so rarely smiled since the start of the invasion. But the thought of getting back on good terms with Mario, of restoring their relationship, was enough to bring her a brief feeling of joy.

She did not at first see the serving girl cleaning up the afternoon tea from her writing desk. Both Peach and the little toad gasped at the shock of running into one another so unexpectedly.

"My apologies, Princess," said the orange toad, hastening to gather the leftovers of the meal, "I didn't know you were still here. If you want I can come back later…"

"Don't be silly, Toadina," Peach responded warmly, placing the last of the plates on the tray for the girl. "I was just heading downstairs. I only need—"

But when she looked at the table again, Peach noticed that the tea set was not the only item removed from her desk. Where there had before been two letters, there was now only one: the thick, unfolded parchment from Toadsworth. Her letter to Mario was gone.

"Did you happen to throw anything away, Toadina?" she asked, sliding her hand across the desk as if the invitation had merely become invisible. "There was a letter here just a minute ago—did you see it?"

"Oh! Yes, I did," the girl said proudly. "I only just gave it to one of the guards outside…ten minutes ago at most. But don't worry, I told him to be quick about sending it out."

Peach's heart sank. _Ten minutes ago_, she thought to herself. _Ten minutes!_

But she merely smiled at Toadina, and thanked her with all of the kindness she could muster under such defeated circumstances. The little girl was beaming with delight at having taken such initiative—Peach could never be so cruel as to point out her grave error.

She slowly walked out of her private chambers; but once she was in the hallway, she began to quicken her steps, the two guards flanking her struggling to keep pace.

_Maybe, just maybe, I can track down it down before…_

But deep down, she already knew: the letter would reach its receiver, and there was nothing she could do to prevent it.


	3. Chapter I: The Letter (Pt 2)

**Chapter One: The Letter (Part Two)**

Amidst the chaos around her, Toadette's eyes wandered skyward. The serene blue canvas above enveloped Toad Town—an ethereal realm all its own looming over the Mushroom Kingdom. The skyscape was populated by citizens of its own, the handmaiden thought with amusement: sparse, cottony clouds floating leisurely through the air; groups of small birds darting in and out of view, through clouds and behind buildings; and larger, solitary birds she could just make out, soaring in the heavens above. But dominating the scene was the radiant sun, reigning over all at the height of its path over the world, and bathing the capital in its midday light.

Such an ever-bright sun and endless blue sky always reminded Toadette of her fondest childhood memories. It was the same sky she had looked at in awe from her bedroom window as a little girl, the day she and her family had moved to the capital. Despite the cramped confines of their home, Toadette and her family had nothing but hopes for their future in such a prosperous land with their own kind. From the tiny third-story dwelling, the vastness of the sky seemed to signify the infinite number of opportunities this new world would offer her.

It was the same sky she had almost been able to touch, the first time her brother and mother had taken her on a hot air balloon ride. She had been horrified the moment the basket departed the safety of solid ground, and had immediately buried herself in its corner, refusing to look out over the sides. But, after some coaxing from Toad, she peeked ever so slightly over the railing, to behold a sight she would never forget. She had immediately felt a part of this lofty and expansive world above—a friend of the moon and stars, and an object to be marveled at by those below. She relished among the clouds, and basked in the sun's warm glow, closer to her than ever before. It was Toadette's only happy memory of a hot air balloon ride, an exhilarating adventure spent with the people she loved most. Her second voyage had certainly not been so-the tragedy of that day still haunted her in the present, and she had never flown since.

Today's sky was seemingly the same one she had looked upon from the tallest tower of the Mushroom Palace, during her first week in Princess Peach's service. Toadette would always remember that day, looking down at the castle grounds and capital from its tallest point, not fearing the great heights from the protection of the thick stone walls. It seemed as if her dreams had come true-she had secured employment in a storybook-like castle, under a Princess she had admired for years. Toadette had let the wind tickle her polka-dot braids that day, as she took in the sights from her new quarters. It was nothing like travelling in a hot air balloon, she had soon realized-she was not exposed, not forced to look back on those fateful days of her childhood, when her life was changed forever. Rather than needing to visit the skies in some contraption, from that day on Toadette had dwelt among them.

On so many of her most memorable days she had looked to the skies in jubilation. And as on those days, so the sky stared down at her now, trying to reflect that same sense of joy, or a sense of hope for the days to come. But on this day, some commotion—whether it was a scream or a crash or some other calamity, she did not know—drew Toadette's eyes away from the world above, and brought her attention back to the chaos below. And all of those childhood memories were extinguished in an instant. Looking at the scene around her, she realized that there were few sources of happiness within her current setting, and even less to be hopeful for.

Unlike the sky above, conditions in Toad Town had never been worse. Toadette had spent the better part of her life in the capital, but lately she felt herself a stranger in an unfamiliar land. Ever since Bowser's forces had invaded the realm, the capital's streets and alleyways had become congested with refugees from countless towns and villages. There was simply no other safe place for them to go. And so, a bustling city in times of peace, Toad Town was now in a state of extreme overpopulation. As the young toad made her way down Toadstool Road toward the city gates, scenes of pity and poverty haunted her from all sides. A family of nokis were huddled close together within a lean-to beside the city bank, while a group of yoshis were erecting a dome-shaped tent right in the middle of the street, blocking the paths of Toadette and dozens of others who shouted in displeasure.

As Peach's handmaiden, Toadette had always considered herself cultured and knowledgeable of the kingdom she called home. But lately, with the capital sheltering citizens of all shapes and sizes, from all corners of the realm, she was forced to realize her ignorance. Her employment in the castle had merely confined her in a fantasy world, where, from her bedroom in the tallest tower, she felt high and mighty staring down at all she knew, a region no larger than the walls that surrounded it. Now, with the world outside those walls having overflowed into Toad Town, with people from distant lands speaking foreign languages she could not comprehend, Toadette had never felt so small.

Strange too were the food and other valuables that the immigrants had brought with them—for not everyone had come empty-handed. The number of vendors populating Toadstool Road seemed to increase every day. She saw a koopa fisherman selling what he claimed to be cheep-cheeps caught fresh from the Coinrush—although their smell made Toadette think otherwise—and she passed an ukiki from the eastern jungles, the baskets hanging from her long outstretched arms filled with fruits, spices, and far stranger items Toadette did not recognize.

"You like, little girl?" the wizened old female asked her, attempting to place a necklace over her large pink mushroom cap. Not until the jewelry dangled from her neck did Toadette realize what it was made from: at least a dozen sharp yellow teeth, once belonging to what she could only guess was an enormous predator. Horrified, she quickly removed the necklace and threw it back at the old vendor. But the frail ukiki would not take no for an answer, and again tried to place the toothy chain around over her head. After a brief struggle Toadette was able to yank herself away, causing the necklace to break into pieces, its slender two-inch teeth scattering across the cobblestone street.

She did not look back, but continued on at a much more rapid pace. _I have to be more careful,_ she told herself. Despite being shaken up, Toadette knew that a run-in with an angry old woman was hardly the worst thing that could happen to a careless toad these days—especially one working within the castle. The armies outside the city walls may protect them from the wrath of Bowser, she knew, but what about protection from the dangers within? As disorder and disobedience intensified, walking the capital's streets had never been more dangerous. Toadette had heard of the terrible crimes committed in the night—robberies, fights, and even worse acts now plagued a once peaceful city. Spending her nights safe in her tower bedroom, she was thankful she needed not fear the dangers of the dark. Some of her family and friends were not so lucky.

The young toad was tired of hearing story after story chronicling the tragedies of Toad Town. Toadette was eager for other news—news of the world outside, where Bowser's forces were running rampant. She was seldom allowed to attend the Princess' council meetings; and on the rare occasion when she was in attendance—to pour drinks or serve food—nothing important ever seemed to be discussed. She often debated asking Peach for news directly; but, knowing how much the war already burdened her, she had thus far decided not to pursue the subject. And she could only imagine the scolding she would get from Toadsworth if she ever asked _him_ for any details—her great uncle was a stern old toad, always scolding those who stuck their noses in places where they didn't belong. So, despite her proximity to power, Toadette had once felt as uninformed about the war outside as any of the other common folk.

But that had all changed a few weeks ago.

She was not usually given the task of delivering letters, and had never taken pleasure in running such errands before the invasion. But, with her curiosity growing by the day, and having discovered (with a little practice) just how easy it was to break and reseal the royal envelopes, Toadette had begun to quench her thirst for stories. All too willingly, the handmaiden suddenly took on the role of messenger at every chance she could find.

This method of news-gathering was risky, she knew. Making the letters appear unopened had required some finesse on her part; and she only ever read them in private, far away from the castle where she was sure she could not be caught. She did not fancy being dismissed from her duties and expelled from the castle, especially in the city's current state of affairs.

But there were other, more personal reasons that Toadette often resented her newly-acquired habit. Breaking the seal of a letter often brought with it a fresh sense of guilt; she wondered if the information she learned was worth betraying the princess she served. More often than not Peach's letters involved trivial matters: inviting her commanding officers to meetings or dinners, telling her treasurer to reallocate funds, or some other tidbit that Toadette cared little about or did not understand.

Other letters did more to amuse her than enlighten her. There was frequent correspondence between the Princess and commander Toadburg, the head of her City Guard. He was a fat old toad who Toadette deemed capable of guarding little more than his dinner plate—although she never shared this thought with the Princess. Despite his best efforts, it was obvious that he and his officers had neither the numbers nor the diligence to keep the peace.

_I didn't need a letter to tell me that_, Toadette now thought, gently pushing her way between a group of bickering Piantas. She figured the guard might be better led by a man who could actually fit into a suit of armor, or walk five steps without taking a rest. But she was merely a messenger and handmaiden, and expressing such opinions out loud.

Every so often, rather than an invitation, business memo, or sob story from Toadburg, Toadette received a letter that made all her efforts worthwhile. Just last week, in a letter from the Riverlands, she had learned of the obstruction of the Shimmering Falls by an army of Hammer Bros., and the consequent flooding of the upper Coinrush. Apparently Shellhaven, the main port city of the region, was slowly being swallowed up by the river. It was by mere chance that Toadette had even obtained this letter, having convinced a messenger from the koopa general's camp to deliver it to the Princess in his place.

However, her feelings of elation at hearing news of the world beyond soon turned into feelings of fear and confusion. The fear she could easily shake off, for she thought that, given Toad Town's high walls and vast army, the enemy could never do here what they had in the Riverlands. But such an action taken by the enemy was more puzzling to Toadette than revealing. _What does Bowser want with a River?_ She often wondered at night, trying to drown out the noise of the city below and fall asleep. _Why isn't he after the Princess?_

Such was the problem with opening the most newsworthy letters: they often left Toadette with more questions than they could answer.

She had decided to tell her brother Toad about the Falls, without revealing her source of information. Unlike Toadette—who spent almost all of her time within the city, if not exclusively in the confines of the castle—Toad was an avid traveler, flying his hot air balloon to the far reaches of the Mushroom Kingdom. She thought his knowledge of the wider realm might provide him with some insight into Bowser's plan—that merely knowing the lay of the land made him a master of the enemy's battle tactics.

Toadette was not entirely wrong, but immediately regretted confiding in her brother. When not exploring the world from above, Toad spent his time buried in books, and had become a respectable historian among academics in the capital despite his young age. As Toadette told him of the fate of the Falls, Toad's eyes lit up in excitement; apparently this act only supported a crackpot theory he had been going on about ever since the start of the war. Based on what she had retained from his occasional ramblings, the armies now invading the Mushroom Kingdom were after something much greater than the princess alone—a prize much more valuable and important to the Kingdom's past. She saw little enough sense in this to ever listen attentively, and did not possess the desire or the sufficient knowledge to debate the topic with him. Toadette let her brother believe his far-fetched theories, while still believing herself that this was all just a ploy to get to the princess in some new way.

Before she knew it, the handmaiden had reached the end of her journey on Toadstool Way. She turned right off of the congested street into a narrow alleyway, one Toadette knew to be a shortcut to her final destination. Save for the clotheslines spanning the adjacent buildings many stories above, and a frail koopa asleep on a pile of dirty blankets at its other end, the sidestreet was completely empty. It was as safe a place as any for Toadette to read her current delivery-a letter from Peach herself.

She had happened to be walking through the castle entrance hall when she saw the messenger making for the large iron doors, letter in hand. She found that, as was so common with messengers-in this case a member of Peach's own royal guard-he needed little persuasion in handing the task over to her. Upon seeing the name of the receiver, however, she had let out an audible groan.

_Another one to Mario_, she had mumbled to herself.

Correspondence between the Princess and her Sworn Protector rarely contained anything of importance, as Mario often heard any tidings from other parts of the realm in the Princess' council meetings. If Peach was sending a letter to Mario, its contents were likely personal. She knew that, as of late, the two had been at odds with one another—although the source of their quarrel was a mystery to Toadette. Peach's letters to him were often vague in meaning, and Mario's even more so (if he chose to respond at all). Despite finding far less sense in them than even the most politically charged letters, Toadette never felt more guilty and uncomfortable than when intruding on these intimate conversations.

Nevertheless, out of habit more than anything else, she found herself unfolding the cream-colored paper, making sure not to damage the wax seal in the process. Toadette quickly realized that there was nothing personal about this letter; it was merely an invitation. Rather than feeling guilty, Toadette almost laughed aloud at the cheerful tone the princess had attempted to adopt. It was if she and Mario were not fighting; as if the Mushroom Kingdom was not in a state of despair; as if she was hosting one of her standard dinner parties. Her words, like the sky above, gave no hint of the political and personal tragedies that currently tormented the Princess and her people.

Furthermore, Toadette knew for a fact that the dinner party mentioned was anything but standard. It was a celebration of special significance. After a long and mysterious absence, Toadsworth was returning to the capital—and he was not returning alone.

She recalled Toadsworth's departure from Toad Town three weeks prior, and the speculation regarding just where he was going. Toadswick, one of butlers, swore he was heading north to the Koopa Kingdom, to make peace with Bowser. But most of the staff, Toadette among them, did not see any sense in this. "And what would the Princess be doin' makin' amends with that brute of a lizard?" demanded Toadelia, the castle's stout old cook. "Less speculatin' and more tea servin' out o' you, I think!"

Others claimed Toadsworth and the Princess had reached irreconcilable differences, and that he was leaving her service for good. But Toadette, knowing both of these figures so well, knew that Toadsworth would never leave Peach's side, regardless of the circumstances. He had served Peach's father, King Duran VI, long before her, and made a solemn vow never to abandon the ruler's daughter upon his own untimely death.

Following much speculation and many other absurd theories, the truth was eventually revealed. It was now known throughout the castle and the capital at large that the Princess' most trusted adviser had headed east, to meet with the leader of the Redwood Kingdom. Peach had confirmed the details of Toadworth's journey to her staff just yesterday, adding that he would be returning with a retinue from the Redwood court that included its own ruler, a king whose name she could not recall.

Toadette knew next to nothing of these strange people from the eastern woodlands, and dared not believe half the stories she heard from the Princess' household or the tavern folk. Some claimed they had begun to invade on lands belonging to the Mushroom Kingdom, and that Toadsworth was sent out to settle the territorial dispute. Others swore that they had seen the people of these lands before—that they were trees themselves, forty feet tall, with thick branches for arms and leaves for hair.

A more accepted theory was that Peach was seeking aid from them in the war against Bowser. This seemed to Toadette to be the most logical explanation, and one that filled her with hope. _Maybe they are giant trees_, she had thought to herself, imagining the Redwood army crushing Bowser and his minions with ease. But then she remembered the Koopa King's fire breathing tendencies. _Best be made of tougher stuff than wood_.

When word had spread through the capital that the Redwood Court would be coming to the city, Toadette found that she was not alone in her optimism. "We ironed these nice and good for the Princess, be sure to tell her," one of the washerwomen had told her last week when she had come to collect Peach's gowns. "Gotta look her best to win the hearts of those Oakshields, we know."

"It's _Oakheads_, you dimwit!" her friend had shouted at her, slapping her with a damp cloth.

_As long as I don't have to iron these myself, you can call them whatever you want_, Toadette had thought as she carried the dresses away from the bickering old toads.

Even prior to their arrival, the citizens of Toad Town saw it fit to celebrate. "To the Redwoods!" a patron at the Tipsy Shroom had toasted last week, nearly spilling his drink in the process. "May they beat, batter, and obliterate that barbaric Bowser once and for all!" His slurred words were met with raucous applause and the tintinnabulation of clinking glasses.

And yet, despite the general merriment regarding the supposed alliance, others remained wary. Toadette had passed by more than a few speechmakers on the city streets as of late, on platforms above their audiences, proclaiming that this new power was a dangerous one, full of evil and malice. Their nonsense reminded her of her brother and his absurd theories, and she gave them as little of her attention as she did him. She could not believe that Peach would ever seek help from people of a cruel nature; if she trusted them, there was no reason for Toadette to do otherwise.

As she approached Mario's residence, she wondered what his thoughts were regarding all of this. _Is this the reason the two are fighting?_ Although constantly in one another's presence, the two had never seemed so distant. There was a long-running belief amongst the castle folk that they had a secret romance; and Toadette, being the princess' handmaiden, was often asked to corroborate such theories. She had always responded, in truth, that the princess never confided in her regarding such matters.

And yet she could see a sadness in her eyes as of late, for of course she had much to be sad about. Did Mario's coolness toward her have something to do with it? Was she truly in love with him, as some believed?

Despite her lack of concrete evidence, Toadette believed that she was. But she had always believed, one day, that she and Mario would part ways for good. For the truth was, as Toadette and everyone else knew, that Mario was not of royal birth. Regardless of his current role as her Sworn Protector, and his countless feats of heroism in the past—journeying to the center of the universe and beyond to save her from all breeds of enemies—Mario was simply not a fit match for the Princess. Toadette herself often fantasized about the Princess' wedding, imagining a handsome prince beside her at the altar; there were so many who often frequented the Mushroom Court, and she knew they would all accept her hand. Surely her marriage would relieve Mario of his duties, allowing him to settle down with a wife and children of his own. Surely it couldn't be any other way…

"Girl, what are you doing here?"

Toadette gasped, and nearly dropped the letter she still held in her tiny hands. She was leaning against the wall of the alley—not having moved since opening the letter—and had been oblivious to the two city watchmen making their way toward her from the main street. The steel-armored koopas were almost upon her, and Toadette made haste to quickly hide the letter behind her back.

They stopped in front of her, casting tall shadows over the trembling little toad. She knew she had little reason to fear guards of the City Watch, but something about the clanking of their armor and the swiftness in their steps gave her the chills, as if a battle were about to unfold right in the narrow alley. There were tales of the less noble among the City Watch as well, who took pleasure in tormenting helpless citizens rather than helping them—she could only hope the two before her were of better stock. _And did they see me read the Princess' letter?_ Toadette wondered, attempting to reseal it without them noticing.

But all at once the taller of the two broke out in laughter. "Ain't you one of the Princess' girls? Not safe to be walking about alone in times like these, ya know. Best get to wherever ya need to go, and quick."

She breathed a sigh of relief. "Right," she managed to say. "Of course, sorry…thank you…"

"Hold on," exclaimed the second guard, the shorter and better groomed of the two. He stared intently at Toadette, who couldn't pretend that she was not hiding something behind her back. _He knows, he knows, he knows, _her conscience seemed to be yelling at her. _You're done for._

"We will escort you to your destination ourselves. We wouldn't want anything to happen to one of the Princess' own now, would we?"

Relieved, Toadette accepted their offer shyly. Continuing down the alleyway, now flanked by two koopas, she again returned to her thoughts. She felt foolish for lingering, and scolded herself for holding the letter out in the open, where anyone could have caught her in the act. She was lucky it was the guardsmen she had run into, and not a fellow toad of the castle, or a dangerous criminal for that matter.

It was this fright she had just been given, along with many other factors—the risk involved in opening the messages, the scarcity of information held within them, the guilt associated with breaking Peach's trust—that made Toadette resolve then and there to never open another letter, and to not going prying into matters that did not concern her. There was so much going on in her own little world, she realized, that seeking news of the lands beyond only complicated matters. _What do I know about the outside realm? What could I possibly do to help?_

Deep down, Toadette knew that she was nothing more than a small player in a giant castle, which ruled over an even larger kingdom. It was not quite the free and blissful life she had once hoped to live as a child, but so much had changed since those foolish days of youth; she had learned to be content with what she had. Peach was kind to her, having taken her into a castle that most could only dream to call home. _Yes_, she reminded herself, _I could lose everything by snooping around the way I am. I have enough responsibility as it is, and a Princess to care for at that. The better I serve her, then the better she can serve her people. _

With a newfound sense of purpose, Toadette strove to keep up with the guards, still clutching Mario's letter—the last one she would ever reseal.


	4. Chapter I: The Lettter (Pt 3)

**Chapter One: The Letter (Part Three)**

The sun was just descending over the rooftop of Mario Bros. Manor, joining seamlessly with its red and orange tiles, when Luigi stumbled his way through the iron-wrought gate into the front garden.

Despite the coolness of the evening, he found himself sweating as he meandered his way up the stone pathway to the porch. It was an unwarranted perspiration and a clumsy gait that were so obviously the products of a long-spent afternoon within the crowded and wild atmosphere of the Tipsy Shroom. What had started out as an early dinner with a few of his fellow guards had quickly devolved into a raucous midday party. Even then, things had remained relatively civil-until an old Ukiki had joined them, contributing a bottle of bright blue liquid to the festivities. Canopy Juice, he had called it, a rare beverage made by his jungle tribe. Luigi and his friends had enthusiastically received the gift, and had each in turn consumed several glasses of the deceivingly sweet substance throughout the meal. Only now, leaning heavily against the front door and fumbling aimlessly to fit his key into the lock, did he realize his mistake. Canopy Juice, he concluded, was certainly not a juice meant for the mouths of children.

_Not tonight, you fool_, he kept repeating to himself. _You told yourself not tonight._

His efforts at unlocking the door were all in vain. After several futile minutes, he began to shake the knob in frustration, only to find that it turned with ease, having been unlocked all along. He had not seen any lights on within, and had thus assumed that no one was home. He stepped into the dark entryway, and by shouting his brother's name several times to no response, concluded that Mario was indeed not there. "Good thinking, bro," Luigi muttered aloud to himself. _How could he forget to lock the door in times like this_?

With a full stomach and a pounding headache, Luigi sauntered to the right toward the wooden staircase against the wall, seeking the solace of his bed. He continued to curse himself for drinking on the eve of such an important day; but not all was lost, he knew. He had seen for himself on the journey home that the sun had hardly set, and that night was only now just beginning. If he had made one good decision that day, it was to start his unintentional drinking at an early hour. He would have plenty of time to sleep off his blunder, and wipe away the mistakes of the evening.

This realization put a spring in his step as he continued up the creaky staircase. Unfortunately, his steps had already been quite staggered, and in the resulting awkwardness of his new stride his left foot tripped unexpectedly on the lip of the top-most stair. Before he knew what had happened, Luigi found himself flat on the second floor landing.

With an muffled groan, he slowly peeled his face off the wooden floorboards feeling worse than ever. The fall had knocked any fleeting sense of optimism right out of him, leaving him wondering if he would even make it to tomorrow morning. _I just need to get to bed_, he told himself. _Just make it down the hall, and I'll be golden. _

Golden. The color seemed to materialize before him as he lay on his stomach in mid-plank position. A thin, horizontal light shone not five feet in front of him. It took Luigi a few moments to notice that he was staring in the direction of Mario's bedroom door, and that the flickering light was emanating from beneath it. _A candle_, Luigi realized. _Was Mario home after all?_

Without a concern for privacy, he stumbled to his feet and hastily opened the wooden door with a loud _creak_. He found the room empty-of Mario, and of furnishings in general. The bedroom had always been that way. Luigi was no decorator himself, but Mario had never even attempted to cover his bare walls with any sort of artwork. With a small bed and narrow desk as its only pieces of furniture, the room reminded Luigi of a prison. The thin wax candle, its flame flickering at the edge of the desk, served as the sole reminder of the room's habitation. _We're lucky the house didn't burn down_, Luigi thought as he walked across the room and snuffed out the tiny flame with thumb and forefinger. With the sun nearly set and the candle extinguished, the room became shrouded in the semi-darkness of dusk.

Satisfied with himself, Luigi again set his sights on his comfy featherbed. But upon making for the door, he saw something skitter along the floor in front of him, only to stop just short of the hallway. Perplexed, Luigi stooped down to see the object more closely. But its identity still eluded him. Whatever it was, it did not put up a struggle as he grasped it in his hand, and rose to a standing position. Not until he put the object directly to his face did he recognize it as a piece of parchment, crumpled up into a ball. _I must have kicked it on the floor_, he realized.

Luigi's curiosity got the better of him, despite his current drowsiness. Concluding that Mario would not miss something clearly intended for the waste bin, he brought the paper with him to his own bedroom. After plopping down on his mattress and lighting his own bedside candle, he smoothed out the single sheet of parchment and put it to the light.

He recognized the handwriting immediately. "Hello, Princess Peach," Luigi said to himself, as if the two were beginning a conversation in that very room.

The letter was brief, and so devoid of anything informative or humorous that Luigi immediately crumpled it back up and threw it behind him. It again found its way to the floor, nestled amongst cobwebs in the farthest corner of his bedroom. Despite its superfluousness, the letter's words had embedded themselves in Luigi's mind.

He found himself, as he so often did, overcome by jealousy—and feeling foolish because of it. There were no secrets within the letter's folds, no hints of romanticism as some might expect. To be sure, the details of the forthcoming party were known to all in the Mushroom Court; and Luigi, along with the rest of the Royal Guard, would be in attendance. With all of the planning leading up to the event, there was no need for personal invitations.

_Except for Mario_, chimed in the jealous creature that lived within Luigi. Even in times of war, with half of the realm's citizens in peril, the Princess had taken the time to hand-write a letter to her favorite hero. _A vapid, childish letter_, Luigi reminded himself. _Peach should be spending her time on more important matters. _

His brother had always been Peach's favorite. By the time Luigi had joined the Royal Guard four years ago, his brother was already the hero of the kingdom, having rescued the Princess on several occasions from Bowser and other lesser-known enemies. Luigi had admired him too, hoping one day that he could be as loved. Following in Mario's footsteps had seemed the obvious course to take to achieve such greatness. With time and practice, surely the pair would one day crush the foes of the Mushroom Kingdom together, and be equally as praised-so he had once thought.

But his service to Peach had never lived up to such expectations. Luigi took a back seat in their dual adventures in his first year of duty, determined to help his more-abled brother in any way that he could. As a result, he thought little of Mario receiving most of the gratitude upon their triumphal return. _Mario is more well-known_, he remembered telling himself, amidst crowds cheering his brother's name. _My time will come_.

Luigi had trained relentlessly in his efforts to match Mario. Eventually, the brothers had fought side by side, defeating minion after minion of the Koopa Kingdom with equal capability, and always rescuing Peach in the end. Luigi had known that the two could never have done apart what they had accomplished together. And yet, upon returning home, it was still only Mario's name that was shouted by the masses. It was Mario whose likeness the city builders sculpted in the form of an enormous statue in the center Apricon Plaza. And it was always Mario who the Princess kissed, thanking him ever so much for saving her once again. Luigi was thanked as well; but always for "assisting" his brother in the rescue, and received little more than a peck on the cheek from Peach and a pat on the back from Toadsworth.

After what seemed like countless bouts of humiliation, Luigi had come to realize that, despite their similarities in appearance and skill-or perhaps because of them-he and his brother would never be seen as equals in the eyes of the Mushroom Kingdom. Mario had simply made his mark first. And as long as the two of them worked together, Mario would always overshadow him.

And so Luigi had begun distancing himself from his brother. Surely his problems could be solved by going on campaigns of his own, without Mario to monopolize on the spoils and glory. If Luigi thwarted enemies and saved Peach on his own, the foolish toads and koopas and other denizens of the kingdom would have no choice but to acknowledge him as the hero he had already proven himself to be.

Yet fortune again had not favored Luigi. While his joint campaigns with Mario had made him into a sort of unsung hero, his disastrous solo endeavours more often left him feeling like a damsel in distress. He loathed thinking about those experiences; but the scars left by them—both physical and emotional—were difficult to forget. _What did I do wrong?_ Mishap after mishap had always seemed to plague his progress. Even worse, it was often Mario himself who had saved Luigi from whatever mess he had gotten himself into. Rather than having rescued the Princess, Luigi had assumed the role Peach herself—another captive relying on the heroism of Mario. The thought made him sick.

His failures had made clear an inarguable truth: Peach would always be Mario's Princess to rescue, and the Mushroom Kingdom would always be his to save. The shadow cast by his older brother engulfed the entire realm; and if Luigi ever wanted to live outside of it, it meant leaving the Mushroom Kingdom for good.

_Daisy knew that_, he recalled. The thought of her, once a source of joy in his increasingly mundane life, was now just another cause of melancholy. Luigi had never truly regretted declining her offer to join her in Sarasaland, with a title far better than the one he currently held. On the surface it was just what he had hoped for—a position in a world away from Mario, and a kingdom who might view him as its hero and savior. But what was Sarasaland but a desert wasteland? From what he had gathered from his infrequent visits, there was no fame to seek in that southern kingdom, no glory to gain. Even Princess Daisy seemed to find little with which to occupy herself in her own dominion, as evidenced by her regular visits to Peach's court. The thought of being the commander in Sarasaland—a sentinel of sand dunes and quicksand—only to constantly return to the Mushroom Kingdom and hear of Mario latest achievements, certainly did not make for the thrilling prospect Daisy had evidently thought she was proposing to him.

Luigi had tried to be delicate in refusing her, but the princess had nevertheless been heartbroken. He suspected that she had had an ulterior motive in inviting him to her lands, given their intimate relationship leading up to the offer. But there was no point in pondering such an idea now. Any bond that may have existed between them was shattered that very day, with Daisy having fled back to Sarasaland not long after the incident. And, despite her frequent visits putting them in close proximity with one another, the two had hardly spoken since. Losing her had done nothing to make him reconsider the offer—he only wished that she would understand his reason for staying, and that they could still carry on as before.

He snapped out of this momentary reflection. He was tired of looking back to the past, upon unchangeable circumstances and former failures. He knew that a new opportunity was on the horizon, and would shine forth with the first glow of the morning sun. He reveled at the prospect of leaving the Mushroom Kingdom for good, At the chance to journey to a famed and distant land just waiting to receive him. It was a chance that he would surely seize.

_The Redwood Kingdom. The Oakhelms. _

He lay on his back, arms behind his head, dreaming of the life that might await him if all went according to plan, and if fortune would for once aid him in his endeavours. Luigi awaited the arrival of this mysterious eastern ally with as much anticipation as everyone else in the realm, if not more. For he saw not only a savior from the wrath of Bowser, but one for himself, from the clutches of mediocrity. This meeting of Toadstool and Oakhelm was no accident, Luigi thought—it was fate. He desired a world apart from his brother's glory, and a powerful and mysterious world had sprung up out of nowhere, as if to answer his prayers.

He had seen it all so clearly the moment he had learned of the court's impending arrival. _This is my chance_, he had told himself as the Royal Guard was being briefed. _A kingdom looking to strengthen an alliance with Peach will surely see the benefit of working with one of her best soldiers._ It was not long before Luigi had had formulated his course of action; Peach and the rest of the court would do what they could do curry favor from the Oakhelms, and he would do just the same, to make them see just how valuable he could be. If all went well, Luigi would be departing the Mushroom Kingdom when this war was over, leaving behind Mario, Peach, and all those who had crippled him in the past.

_Soon enough_, he said to himself, his eyelids heavy from the weight of dreams-some of the future, but others of the disjointed, subliminal type brought about by his tired and drunken state. _Soon enough._

Comfortable in mind and body, Luigi made the slow and peaceful transition from consciousness to sound sleep, the unextinguished flame of the candle dancing rhythmically by his bed all the while.


	5. Chapter I: The Letter (Pt 4)

**Chapter 1: The Letter (Part Four)**

Night fell upon the Mushroom Kingdom. The sun, having beaten relentlessly on the inhabitants of Toad Town all throughout the day, had since descended beyond the horizon, leaving a thick canopy of clouds in its wake. All that had so recently been cast in a bright light was now smothered in shadow.

Darkness had always been an enemy of the City Watch; but it had been a particularly troublesome foe as of late. Mischief and mayhem had already increased tenfold since the start of the war, which had been no surprise given Toad Town's cramped conditions. But with the aid of a night such as this, with no moon to cast even the faintest light (was it covered by the clouds? Or merely a starting its cycle anew?), criminals would elude the exhausted guards with even greater success. Robberies would go unnoticed, fights would erupt between mere strangers, and the watchmen would be blind to it all. Of course some guards carried torches—but with such congestion in the city's dodgier streets, this tended to cause more fires than it put out. Pedestrians navigating the narrow streets usually chose to do so without the help of fire, preferring to go about blindly rather than draw attention to themselves.

With so much to watch out for in the night, and so little light with which to see it, Mario had climbed the walls of Toad Town unnoticed.

It had become a recent habit of his: scaling the city walls just east of the Toadstool Gate (with the aid of an adjacent building and a few wall jumps) to observe the world beyond from this lofty perspective. He sat parallel to the wall in one of its many notches, his back leaning against a parapet. To his left was the capital, a sea of brick and stone and tiled roofs, with the castle looming over atop a high hill, the enormity of the Toadstool Estate was not diminished even at this distance. To his right, the fields of Toad Town stretched endlessly, divided by the road that ran south from city's largest gate.

From Mario's own perspective, the gate seemed a barrier of sounds as well as worlds. From the left came the noises of urban life, a sudden shout, the breaking of glass, and the muffled sound of faraway music. From the right, he heard nothing but the soothing silence of the outside world. Naturally, he found himself leaning toward the serenity of the fields beyond.

With the evening clouds had come a fierce wind, now openly assaulting the city in full force. High upon the walls, it seemed to blow in an eternal rage. But Mario remained unaffected—his thoughts were on other matters, more important than the weather.

_Doesn't she see?_ He thought to himself. While his eyes looked out to the fields, he couldn't help but dwell on the Princess, somewhere within the castle, in the opposite direction. _I should be out there, not here. I can't do anything from inside these walls. _

He looked down at the flickering camp fires that dotted the rolling hills, the only evidence in the moonless night of the thousands of tents and the people that inhabited them. They were the soldiers—the forces that had failed in the Highlands and returned, disheartened; those that had stayed behind, only to hear about the losses suffered by their brothers; and those newly recruited, wondering fearfully when their first battle would come. Mario thought about all those soldiers, cooking their evening meals, telling stories around a campfire. All had been commanded to sit idly by to wait for new new orders, while the Kingdom around them fell to ruins. _Are any of them as restless as I am_? Mario wondered from above.

His thoughts were interrupted as a sudden breeze, stronger than the rest, ascended the high walls and hit Mario full force. The wind ran up Mario's sleeves and trouser legs, penetrating his skin and enveloping his entire body in an icy chill. Even his hat—so contoured to his large, round head as to seem a living extension of his body—was momentarily parted from him in the violent gust. But Mario was too quick to let it run off his favorite red cap. He he seized it just in time, and fixed it firmly back atop his matted hair.

In lunging for his hat over the cityside of the wall, Mario's attention was diverted to the capital. Toad Town was surprisingly dark compared to the sparkling hillside. He knew that, given the option, most people preferred to stay indoors after sunset. _Too risky to be out at night._ But the darkness did little to silence the city; the sounds issuing from the streets and alleys served as reminders of those who had nowhere else to go.

As if his mind wandered opposite to his eyes, he now thought about the world outside while looking in at the confines Peach had ordered him not to leave. He knew somewhere out there Toadsworth was on the move, inching ever closer to the capital, bringing with him the people who many believed would be the saviors of the city.

_The Redwood Kingdom_, Mario reminded himself. _The Oakhelms_.

Mario himself had been ignorant of the adviser's secret mission until a week ago. He had always hated being uninformed, especially regarding something so crucial as this. It was a position he was not used to; as Peach's Sworn Protector and confidante, he was usually privy to all such diplomatic negotiations. But this time had been different-according to Peach, no one had known of the mission but herself, Toadsworth, and his own attendants, for reasons that she felt were "too obvious to warrant explanation." So, by the time she decided to inform Mario and the rest of the ignorant council, everything had already been set in stone: Toadsworth had succeeded in his proposal of an alliance, and the Oakhelms were already on their way, having agreed to return with him. There was obviously nothing left to deliberate.

He wasn't sure what had upset him the most. Peach had always trusted Toadsworth; but he and Mario had never been on good terms, despite their shared loyalty to the Princess. He had always sensed that the old conservative toad resented the fact that Mario, a simply plumber, had managed to rise so high in Peach's regard. Personal matters aside, Mario and Toadsworth also clashed regularly in council meetings, rarely seeing eye to eye on critical issues. Had Mario been given a say in the matter of the Oakhelm alliance, for instance, a fierce debate certainly would have followed. To invite allies into the realm at such dangerous times as these hardly seemed logical. _Why in the world had they agreed to come?_ he had wondered. What worried him even more was the seemingly impulsive decision to put so much faith in these new and unknown allies. Despite the Mushroom Kingdom's desperation, Mario was surprised to discover how little Peach herself knew of the kingdom in the east. "Toadsworth has nothing but good things to say about his stay and his hosts. Why should we believe that the King has any evil intentions for agreeing to an alliance?" Peach had rebuttaled when Mario had shared his feelings with the others. The answer had not been satisfying in the slightest. Allies until proven Enemies had never been an axiom of Mario's.

Yet what had upset him the most upon hearing this news, he was embarrassed to admit, was far more personal. The fact that Peach was calling for aid from foreign lands, without even giving Mario a chance to confront Bowser on his own, left him feeling personally defeated. And angry. He had let her know as much when the two were left alone following the meeting.

"This is bigger than you, me, and Bowser!" She had nearly shouted in response. "The whole kingdom is at stake, Mario. This is more than one person can handle alone."

It was the only time they had ever argued about the matter; and deep down, he knew that she was right. Through all of their previous conflicts, saving her had always been the end goal. He had vanquished thousands of enemies, pacified numerous towns, and collected more stars than he could count in the process…but all of these were simply obstacles to overcome, so that he might eventually reach Peach and liberate her from Bowser.

This time there were no stars to chase after, and the Princess was currently safe in her castle. For someone who had always seemed so dense and single-minded, Bowser's objectives were now oddly indecipherable to Mario and the other leaders of the kingdom. _Has his motive changed? _he had often wondered, lying in bed and unable to sleep. Mario knew the key to conquering one's foe was a good understanding of his motives. He had never quite understood what he had hoped to gain from Peach, on the countless occasions he had taken her for himself; but wrestling her away from him had always sent him running home. Since the start of this current conflict, however, Bowser had made no demands-not for the princess, nor for gold coins, nor for any other valuables. And yet his legions marched on. _How do I defeat a monster who desires nothing but destruction?_

And so he stayed. He sat at the very edge of the capital itself, biding his time. Waiting for a motive or demands from his sworn enemy. Waiting for the inevitable arrival of new allies, who might help them in their calls. Waiting for any sort of development that might put him in action.

Part of him knew that he was staying put for Peach. Despite their squabbling over the past few weeks and her own apparent safety, he sensed that she needed him now more than ever before. She was at her wit's end, so much so that she was depending on aid from a people she had never met. It pained him to linger, so protected in the double walls of the castle and capital, when he could be out there fighting, making progress where no others could. But he was Peach's Sworn Protector-he would certainly never forgive himself if something happened to her while he was away. _There are dangers in Toad Town as well_, he had reminded himself while pondering over his dilemma earlier that very day.

What made his current predicament hardest to bear was the fact that he was suffering through it alone. Given the current hostility infecting their relationship, it seemed impossible to confide in Peach, as he had always done in the past. _And what have our arguments accomplished?_ he had asked himself earlier that day, no longer able to endure their separation. It all seemed so petty and childish in retrospect. Peach had her responsibilities, and Mario had his-he had become the hero he was today because of her, and thus could not be so selfish as to abandon her just so he could prove himself once again. He knew that at this point in his career, he had nothing left to prove. No, if there was any hope of either of them achieving victories, they would have to do so together, on the same side. Peach would need all the help she could get in currying favor from the Oakhelms. And, in the event that the King was not the benevolent ruler Toadsworth had described, Mario would need to do all he could to protect the Princess, and warn her of any danger.

After several hours of contemplation, everything had become clear. With his apology rehearsed in his head, he had left Mario Manor that afternoon feeling as though the two had already reconciled their differences. A great weight was already beginning to lift itself from his strapping shoulders. But just as he was descending the steps of his front porch, two guards halted outside of his gate. He did not recognize either of them—so many new faces had joined the ranks recently, it was likely they had never even met.

"'Hem 'hem...hello, Mario."

He hadn't even noticed Toadette sandwiched between the two armored koopas, staring through the posts of the iron gate as if from a prison cell. She had seemed anxious, teetering from one foot to the other, her bulbous pigtails swaying like pendulums. Mario had waved in response, attempting to hide his curiosity with a smile. He had always been friendly with Toadette, but there was usually only one reason why she would pay him a visit.

Having sensed that they would come no further, Mario had approached the trio of visitors. He had noticed the white envelope Toadette clutched in her pudgy hands, only confirming his suspicions. Before he had even stopped walking or said a word, she had thrust her hand through the gate and tossed the letter in his direction, as if eager to get rid of it. He had extended his hand just in time to grasp it, recognizing immediately his own name written in the gentle strokes of Peach's penmanship. He had looked up again to respond, but the little handmaiden had quickly retreated from the premises. At a rapid pace for a girl with such short legs, Toadette was off, followed immediately by the guards.

"Thanks!" Mario had shouted, to no response. He had turned the letter over and over in his hands, wondering what it might contain. _Has Peach come to the same conclusion?_ he had thought optimistically, a smile having formed on his face.

Having seated himself on a rickety rocking chair, he had taken a deep breath and opened the letter. Perhaps it was due to his own eagerness that he had broken the envelope's waxy pink seal with such ease.

_I don't want to think about it_, Mario told himself, staring again at the open fields to his right. But the letter kept materializing in front of him, like some ghastly apparition of the night.

After reading its contents, all thoughts of seeing Peach, of apologizing to her, had dissolved away. Her words, so familiar to him, now seemed to taunt him in his saddened state. _I'm having a party at the castle_, she had written. _Yes, I know-we've argued about it for days_, he had thought. Mario had been hesitant about such festivities before officially sealing an alliance with the Oakhelms; but Peach, Toadstone, and the rest of the council had been against him. _It would mean ever so much to me if you would come_, she had written. _Do I have a choice? _he had thought.

Mario had often been beckoned to the castle by such words; but usually the corresponding celebration was thwarted by an attack on Bowser. So frequently that Mario had begun to regard the letters as an omen of impending doom, and a cry for help from the not so distant future. But this time was different. _Wasn't she the one who told me that? _he suddenly 's invitation had been no request for his heroism, he knew-he would stand by passively at Friday's feast, just as he had done for months._ Is she mocking me? _he wondered, reanalyzing the simplicity of her words in the strained state of their relationship. Whatever her intentions had been, reconciliation certainly had not been among them. Despite the tradition of these letters, he found himself utterly despising this one.

Yet he couldn't stop thinking about her, from his spot of solace on the high walls. He knew-deep down, when their titles and responsibilities were stripped away-what Peach truly meant to him. _But what do I mean to her?_ Was he just a fighter, called upon when his skills were needed, a brute force to repel the enemy? And, if so, was he being cast aside, deemed inadequate to handle the kingdom's current catastrophes? This feeling of worthlessness made him sick to his stomach.

There was nothing to do but wait, Mario concluded. Wait for the Oakhelms to arrive, to see if they would help Peach take back her lands. Wait for the war to resume, with the hope that victory could still be achieved after months of bitter defeat. Wait for their world to return to some state of normalcy. Perhaps Mario and Peach could finally work out their feelings for one another when the rest of the kingdom was at peace; doing so now seemed utterly futile.

Tomorrow's rising sun would bring with it the possibility of change, he knew. With the hope that sleep would distract his troubled mind, Mario ceded the fate of the Mushroom World to such celestial powers and descended from his post.

* * *

This concludes the first (full) chapter of Super Mario: Wane of Wonders. Please review, if you're reading! Any feedback regarding story elements or my writing style is welcome. I was wondering: do you prefer chapter sections to be released separately, or would you rather the whole chapter be released at once in one larger document? I know for me personally, I would rather read smaller pieces as opposed to one endless webpage, but that may be due to my own dislike of reading on the internet. I will most likely not be publishing anything new for a while, as I will be out of the country for the next few weeks. Unless I am very ambitious in my editing over the weekend, don't expect Chapter 2 until the first week in June. Thanks for reading!


	6. Chapter II: Toadstool & Oakhelm (Pt 1)

**Chapter Two: Toadstool and Oakhelm (Part One)**

Peach was reading to her children when she received word of Toadsworth's return.

They were not her true children, but she had thought of the orphans as such ever since she had brought them under her care. They were twenty in total—victims of the current conflict, the very first refugees who had come to the city without anyone to look after them. There was a pair of penguin siblings who had been sent away from home, had swam up a narrow river to the safety of the capital; four goomblings who had fled too late, and were separated from their families in the chaos of their burning village. Some, like poor little Nelly Noki, knew for sure that they were orphans. Peach had seen them all, their faces dirtied and eyes full of fear, and pitied them. When she ordered the toads to find rooms for them in the castle, no one on her council objected.

But when the swell of refugees had increased, and along with it the numbers of children, the Princess knew that she had bitten off more than she could chew. Toadsworth did not have to tell her that she could not care for all of them herself.

"We have shelters and kitchens to provide for them in the city," he had reminded her.

Resolute in her decision not to take even one more of the hundreds of orphans in the city, she refused to abandon the twenty she had already rescued from the streets. Peach had already sworn to protect them, and would not break such a promise. She did not forget about the others, either. She visited them in the shelters as often as she could. But doing so never put an end to her nightmares: of thousands of hungry and abandoned children clawing at her walls.

They were seated in the western gardens that morning, Peach on a small marble bench in front of the children, all gathered close together on the soft green grass. Having looked up to turned the page of her book, she had seen a toad approaching her out of the corner of her eye. She recognized him at once as one of Toadsworth's, and knew immediately why he was here. His whispered message moments later confirmed her suspicions-Toadsworth had indeed just arrived back in the castle, and demanded to speak with the Princess at once. Peach listened and nodded, never changing her cheerful expression as she looked down from one child to the next. It was all she could do not to end the story then and there, and run up the castle stairs to her solar, so eager was she to meet with her adviser. But she could not depart from her reading duties so hastily, she knew. So Peach suppressed her anxiousness and continued on.

She was reading one of their favorite chapters from _Rosalina's Storybook_. She understood the book's appeal—a story about a girl far away from home, and magical creatures wandering the universe in search of a missing mother, would obviously strike a chord with such children as these. Peach saw in all of them little Lumas, Rosalinas, or both.

"The two Lumas neither drew closer nor backed away from each other," Peach read in her high, sweet voice. "Instead, they just stared. Then one Luma broke the silence._"_

"My mama!" the children shouted in unison. "My mama, my mama!"

Peach laughed. The children knew the stories word for word, so often had they heard them. They had taken a liking to reading the Lumas' lines, so the sudden outburst did not surprise Peach in the slightest. Yet she couldn't help but notice that, this time, they sounded particularly loud and joyful. _Are they talking to me?_ she wondered. She found it easy enough to refer to them as her children; was it so hard to imagine that they, in turn, would see her as their mother? The thought left her feeling uneasy.

She had read through the book at least a dozen times, but her audience never seemed to tire of it—for which Peach had reason to be grateful. Her selection of children's stories were few; and most of them were tales of monsters and heroes, of war and destruction, and good versus evil. She couldn't bring herself to tell such stories now, especially not to this lot, who had suffered so much. The fictional events would seem too real, too relatable. Peach knew that the tales always ended happily; but would the children be able to envision a similar ending to their own struggles? She herself sometimes had trouble doing as much.

Rushing through the last few pages, Peach concluded the reading session with the usual moans and groan from the little ones. But their attention was soon diverted by the arrival of breakfast, brought from the castle kitchens by Toadette and some of the kitchen staff. The Princess hugged the various little koopas, penguins, yoshis, and other creatures of her kingdom one by one, and watched as they ran off toward the food trays laid out for them, or else toward the sunflowers bathing in the morning light. Three of the nokis tended to the giant flowers regularly. It was a task, Peach realized, that likely reminded them of their home in the Shorelands and neighboring isles, where the animated sunflowers grew in multitudes. Peach's own stock had been transplanted from Isle Delfino several years ago.

In return for their generosity, the plants often entertained the nokis and other children. They danced in unison, swaying slowly and waving their long leaf arms in a hypnotic manner. And they sang, their mellifluous voices carrying all throughout the castle grounds. The songs were in words that Peach did not understand-so few had any understanding of the sunflower tongue-but that nevertheless had a soothing effect on all who heard them. The children, pouring juice and buttering biscuits, broke their fast just as the plants began their morning melodies.

Seeing that all was content, Peach left the warmth of the gardens for the coolness of the castle interior. Her brisk pace quickened with each step, so that she was running by the time she crossed the threshold into the entry hall. She hardly took notice of Toadsworth's steward, struggling to keep up with her in an effort to convey the rest of his message.

"Meet you…in his study…" he spat out, his stubby little legs working as fast as they could.

Peach, who had been heading toward her own quarters, changed direction at the toad's announcement. Mind racing with a thousand thoughts, she turned left down a long corridor toward Toadsworth's chambers without a second thought. It was not until she opened the door to his empty study—leaving the breathless toad in the hallway—and sat in the chair opposite his desk that she soon realized her own mistake. Eagerly awaiting Toadsworth's entrance, but utilizing the time to catch her breath and organize her thoughts, Peach also slowly began to realize the position she had put herself in-no, that Toadsworth had put her in. _To make me wait on him, at a time such as this..._

It was hardly the first time Toadsworth had made such a power play. She knew there were many in her kingdom who believed that he was the one who truly ruled, that the Princess was simply his puppet. But Peach and her council knew better. She always had the final word on all decisions, regardless of what Toadsworth thought; and yet she deeply valued her oldest adviser's opinion-especially when it clashed with her own. Sometimes he helped her see the truth of matters, convincing her to take a course of action she never would have considered. In other instances, he merely made Peach fight more passionately for her own course of action. Her rule, and all the choices she made for the sake of her people, were the product of a kind and gentle heart in constant discord with a cold and calculating mind. But Peach knew that the Mushroom Kingdom was better off with Princess Toadstool and Master Toadsworth at the head than it would be with either of them alone.

Toadsworth took pride in his advisory role. But, having been summoned by him, forced to wait in anticipation in the embrace of the tall, throne-like oak chair, Peach was reminded of how often he overstepped his boundaries. Perhaps it was his way of humbling her, of reminding her of his value. But, given the circumstances, she could not help but feel annoyed. _This is not the time for such games._

Minutes passed in silence, only broken by the constant ticking of the grandfather clock in the far corner of the room. It reminded Peach of the time being wasted, every second another moment she was being kept in the dark, ignorant of Toadsworth's news. She was all but ready to get up and burst through the door to his private chambers when the door opened from within, and the little man entered his study.

He looked no worse for the wear after weeks of traveling. Peach was not surprised. Toadsworth had hardly changed at all during the decades she had known him-a living statue that neither weather nor time could erode. He walked with the same slow but purposeful gait, with the same barely detectable limp—perhaps he was born with it, Peach had often wondered—but relied no more on his cane now than he ever had before. The journey had left him with a noticeable tan, the only indication of his time abroad. But his thick gray mustache was as properly trimmed as it had been when he left. _He probably had to tend to it before our meeting_, the Princess thought to herself humorously. It tickled her hand the same as always when he greeted her with a kiss—a dutiful sign of affection, the only kind he ever showed her.

"I'm glad to see you safe," Peach said, her anger dissipating now that her wait was over. "Did it take you long to find them? When we didn't hear from you for so long, we thought-"

"Oh, nonsense," Toadsworth replied, seating himself in his own similarly carved oak chair. Despite its enormity, it did not belittle him in the slightest; in contrast, it seemingly amplified his own size. "We knew of the difficulties this journey proposed, with the east being as unmapped as it is. We were lucky to make contact with the Oakhelms as quickly as we did, if truth be told."

"Well, you more than made up for it by returning so swiftly. I'm really quite surprised you made such good time, after hearing how luxuriously King Xylandar prefers to travel."

The smallest smile appeared on Toadsworth's face. "Tracking our progress, Princess?"

Peach smiled back. "You can't expect me to be satisfied with the scant details in your own letters, Toadsworth. I received daily updates from my many friends along your route home. One of the many perks of being a Princess."

"Hmph, very well then," he replied grumpily. "But do understand, I thought it best to recount the negotiations made with our new allies in person-I was not intending to keep anything from you longer than necessary. It was best not to risk word getting out through an intercepted letter."

_Negotiations_, thought Peach, her heart suddenly racing. She wondered what could be so sensitive as to be unfit for a letter. _Time to get to the crux of the matter_. "And what were these negotiations, specifically?"

Toadsworth seemed to hesitate. It was an action wholly uncharacteristic of the old toad, and one that did little to comfort Peach. What deals had he been forced to make on her behalf?.

"You must let me tell this story from the beginning, Princess. That way nothing will be left out, or forgotten."

Peach leaned back in her chair, an unspoken sign of consent. _Get to it, then. We have a kingdom to save._

Toadsworth cleared his throat several times before starting. "As you've likely gathered...from your many friends...our journey east was a grueling ordeal. We relied on transportation for as long as we could, but once we entered the Woodlands the paths were rugged and overgrown. There was no way to travel but by foot. Trouble lurked at every turn-the magikoopas and their minions are really making quite a mess of things. It being the end of the rainy season certainly didn't make matters any easier. But soon enough we acquired an ukiki guide, and telling him our general course he was able to lead us through quite efficiently. A stubborn bunch, the Oakhelms, for making us come all the way to their borders—but we got there eventually."

"Where did you meet them, exactly? And what specifically was discussed?" Peach could have asked a million other questions; but she was hoping to speed up this bloated tale, not re-live the entirety of the past several weeks.

Toadsworth addressed the first question. "There is a fortress-in their lands, so they claim, but truthfully I believe it still falls within the borders of the Mushroom Kingdom. It had only recently been reinhabited, that much was obvious. But the Oakhelms were doing their best to repair it, and we were comfortable during our stay. The King was very welcome, along with the rest of his court."

Peach felt the knot in her stomach tighten, but did not let Toadsworth sense her unease. "And what about his queen?" She asked indifferently. The information she had gathered regarding the royal family was sparse; according to her various sources, none of the royal family save the King had ventured out of their carriage for the entire duration of the journey. Now, Toadsworth's omission of his wife only confirmed her suspicions-and her fears.

"There is no queen, Princess. Sadly, she passed away some years ago."

Peach nodded, numb to all her senses. _Does this mean what I think it must?_ she thought anxiously, remembering vividly the terms she had agreed to. She tried to look strong, but the news of an unmarried king produced a feeling of defeat that was difficult to hide.

As if he had read Peach's mind, Toadsworth quickly added, "Not to worry, Princess. King Xylandar is himself an old man. He has no desire to remarry this late in life."

All at once a great weight was lifted from her shoulders. Evidently she had misdiagnosed Toadsworth's trepidation, fearing that it meant his resorting to their final offer of negotiation: her own marriage. For the sake of her people, Peach knew that proposing an alliance sealed by such a match was part of her duty as ruler. _Princesses are meant for Princes_, _and Queens for Kings_, her mother, Queen Cherimoya, had always told her as a child. She had been adequately prepared for that inevitable day; and, seeing how happy her own parents had always been, knew that happiness could result from such arranged unions. Yet, for those fleeting moments she had thought her fate sealed, the image of her marrying an old king from a foreign land had frightened her more than she expected. _Thank the stars that it won't come to that_. Peach could have laughed with delight.

"I see," was all she said in response, hardly changing her impassive expression. "And will the King help us fight Bowser?"

"I told His Majesty of our current, as well as former, conflicts with the Koopa King," continued Toadsworth. Apparently nothing would stop him from telling the story on his own terms. "He was aware of our present predicament, both from our brief correspondence as well as from his own sources. His people had never dealt directly with Bowser, but the King harbored no good feelings for the Koopa Kingdom, after hearing of the atrocities committed in the past. And after some…negotiations, he agreed to our proposal. The Oakhelms will aid us, and they have come to seal this pact."

Peach would have breathed a sigh of relief, would have jumped for joy-if not for the obvious fact that this story wasn't quite finished. _He has yet to mention his negotiations. _Toadsworth cleared his throat uncomfortably, and his eyes had trouble meeting her own. _Surely he would have told me by now, unless..._ Suddenly, she realized exactly what was left unsaid, what was so hard for Toadsworth to tell her. _He dismissed my suspicions of marrying the king easily enough. But not the prospect of marriage entirely. _

Peach sat up, rigid in her chair, staring directly at the old toad across the desk. She would put an end to Toadsworth's torture herself. "Your negotiations, Toadsworth. Tell me, does the king have an heir? A son, perhaps?"

He struggled to meet her gaze, but did so at her question, asked so demandingly. "He does, Princess."

She had hardly needed to ask, so sure was she of the answer. But Peach was not consoled by the confirmation of a younger, eligible bachelor in the Oakhelm family. She knew exactly what it must mean for her, knew this time that her suspicions were not misguided. _A prince for a princess_. Her mother's soft voice sang in her head, slowly growing until they seemed to reverberate off the high ceiling of the study. It was as if she were trying to communicate with her from beyond the grave, announcing that the time she had so well prepared her for had come at last.

Peach was tired of dancing around the matter. "So a marriage pact was made after all, then?"

She immediately noticed his relief-likely at not having to relay such news himself. Unburdened, Toadsworth tried his best to reassume his usual draconian demeanor. "We knew it might come to that; and I saw no other way to enlist their aid. Prince Emory will be a suitable match, rest assured." He paused, aware that he was treading into uncomfortable territory. "I only hope you can…"

_Forgive you? Go through with it?_ Peach said to herself.

"…accept that this is best for the kingdom, and for our cause. I did what I did not for you, but for our people."

The explanation did not comfort Peach in the slightest; but Toadsworth had never been one to console, and she understood his meaning well enough. Her mind wandered outside the castle, thinking about the hungry and homeless inhabitants of Toad Town. And to the Oakhelms, a people she had never met, waiting just outside, ready to aid them all. There was only one choice she could make—the only choice a Princess in her position could make.

"I don't suppose you accepted on my behalf?" she asked.

"Of course not," said Toadsworth. "The King and Prince await your response."

_Surely they see my situation for what it is_, she thought. Toadsworth had likely assured them of her willingness to wed; she doubted they would have come all this way if there was even the slightest chance she would refuse. But there was one final question Peach wanted answered.

"Do you trust them?" she asked, staring deep into Toadsworth's eyes.

Toadsworth struggled to meet her gaze. He was clearly still uncomfortable about something; Peach thought she knew just what it was. She was witnessing one of those rare moments, after her adviser had made a calculated decision, when he was forced to face its consequences. He had not hesitated in recommending such a drastic offer to her, prior to his departure-nor in suggesting the match to the King, Peach suspected. But facing the proposed bride herself, after all was said and done, was evidently a startling and concrete realization bargain he had made.

"I trust the King, and the Prince, of course," he answered. "I would not have brought them here otherwise. My duty is to the realm, but also to you. I would never have offered your hand to someone I thought would not be worthy of it. I'm sure that would and the Prince will, in time, be...very happy together."

Peach looked again at Toadsworth, trying to pierce his hard exterior. She suddenly saw not only a ruthless politician forced to look on the results of his actions; she could also, just barely, glimpse an old man struggling with fatherly feelings for a young woman he had known since her days in diapers. Peach knew that Toadsworth cared for her deeply; that his advisory role often clouded this suppressed urge to protect the Princess as a parent would. Yet at this moment, Peach saw everything clearly. _This is as hard for him as it is for me_.

She could not blame him, she knew. As he had said, he had done what was right and necessary for the safety of the people. She wanted to thank the old toad_, _tell him how much she cared for him and appreciated all he had done. But part of her was not quite ready to do so; despite her consent, she nevertheless loathed the choice she was forced to make-one that Toadsworth had proposed, had thrust upon her and carried out in her absence.

"Then let us be wed," was all she said to him, sounding not grateful, nor frustrated, but resolute.

It was difficult for Peach to continue their meeting, struggling to come to terms with her fate. But she remained just long enough to brief Toadsworth on the specifics of the welcome ceremony to be held later on that very day. Her council had organized it all during their most recent meeting-but none of them had anticipated the announcement of an engagement. Peach had not revealed the prospect to anyone, as if doing so would make the odds of it happening more likely. Not even Mario knew of this final bargaining piece.

The Princess' thoughts lingered on her Sworn Protector, when she finally left Toadsworth to sort through all of his unread mail.

Her children often asked her when she would marry. They, like many in the Mushroom Kingdom, wondered if she would end up with Mario, after all that they had been through together. "I suspect one day I will marry a prince," she had told them happily, not wanting to talk with them about her complicated relationship with the mustached man who had so often saved her. "A princess is meant for a prince, my mother always said."

"But he's your _hero_!" one of the little koopas had shouted while the others nodded in agreement. "If you marry a prince, what will Mario do?"

_What would he do?_ Peach had always wondered. Now, walking aimlessly down an empty corridor—her marriage no longer a fantasy, an actual prince waiting at her doorstep—she realized that her question would soon be answered.


	7. Chapter II: Toadstool & Oakhelm (Pt 2)

**Chapter Two: Toadstool and Oakhelm (Part Two)**

The menagerie of Mushroom Kingdom residents were bustling with excitement as they passed beneath the wide Goomba Gate, the setting sun drastically elongating their shadows on the freshly-mown lawns and stone streets of the castle grounds. Such a collective happiness had been absent in Toad Town for quite some time; but the incoming crowds knew that they had cause to celebrate. If what they had heard could be believed, their homeland would soon be saved, all thanks to the newly-arrived guests they had come to welcome.

It was infeasible for the capital's entire population to be in attendance—they could hardly be contained in the city itself. But Peach had invited a good representation of the realm's populace, from the most influential to the most impoverished. Despite their varying social statuses, all the onlookers lining the procession route-from its beginning at the Gate all the way to the plaza at the foot of the great stone steps-appeared equally joyous. Noki mothers held their babies in bundles, blissfully unaware of their constant wailings. Toadlings climbed trees or stood on the shoulders of their parents; some even attempted to climb atop reluctant yoshis, just to get a view of the spectacle soon to come. Some of the local shop owners had even set up small kiosks away from the walkway, selling food and souvenirs at discount prices.

As he made his way across the drawbridge from Peach's Castle, Mario observed before him the masses in their merriment and groaned.

He was not bothered by the crowds' gaiety in particular. Despite his usually serious demeanor, Mario had never been one to oppose festivities of festivities. He was more disturbed by the sheer _number_ of people who had come to welcome the Oakhelms-all packed together and in such proximity to the Princess and other dignitaries. _Who's to stop them from throwing rotten fruit at Peach?_ he thought to himself as he walked by her side. But Mario knew that a flying watermelon was the least of his worries. In such a war-battered kingdom as this, he suspected that there were some among the masses who would rejoice in seeking retribution from their princess in a much more violent way.

_At least we're not in the Plaza_, Mario reminded himself with some sense of consolation. During the last council meeting-the majority of which was spent planning the ceremony-he had argued that ushering in their new allies with any sort of public event would be too great a risk. But Peach had disagreed. Granted, she had recently fought with Mario on almost every facet of council business; but on this occasion she had defended her point with a passionate logic.

"A morale boost is just what the people need right now," she had explained to the others. "What could be better than inviting them to join us in welcoming our new allies? Surely we can make sure the necessary precautions are taken?"

Most had sided with her; but none more emphatically than Toadstone. Mario knew that the middle-aged mayor had spent many sleepless nights dealing with the multitude of city troubles as of late. His being in favor of anything that might quell such unruliness came as no surprise. He had gone so far, once the matter had been settled by a vote, as to suggest Persimmon's Plaza, the city's largest public space, as the perfect venue for the occasion. But Mario had resoundingly shut this idea down, having recognized at once all the dangers such a location proposed. And, to his surprise, he had found he was not alone in his opposition. Commander Toadburg, head of the City Watch, immediately concurred with Mario before he had even explained his reasoning. Seldom had the two ever seen eye-to-eye before.

"Persimmon's Plaza is too large, with far too many buildings and windows lining the open square," Toadburg had argued in his baritone voice, saving Mario the trouble. "It would be next to impossible to ensure your safety, Princess. Not to mention the safety of the attendees and our guests. If we're going to make the ceremony open to the public, it will have to be somewhere secluded…somewhere private."

Despite the apparent contradiction, many council members had seen some sense in it, Mario among them. They all eventually agreed that the castle grounds were the ideal location-enough space in its rolling green lawns to hold a large audience, and enough defenses to keep such an audience in check. It would not be a public event in the truest sense; yet all the attendees would be chosen by Peach herself, ranging from her friends at court to Toad Townians to refugees from all across the realm. The City Watch had searched them all alike prior to their entry; and with the castle walls surrounding them, they were confident that they had eliminated all sources of danger.

But, as Mario crossed the bridge with the rest of the welcoming party and looked at all the happy faces below, he reminded himself that disaster often struck at such unexpected times as these-when its victims had their guard down, and would least anticipate it. He resolved to remain alert enough for all of them.

Peach had even invited the orphans to watch. _Her children_, Mario reminded himself. So vigilant was he that evening that even they had not escaped his detection: crowded together on the balcony of the southeast tower, jumping to see over the rail or squatting to see through its columns, all the time waving excitedly at Peach as she led the group from the castle.

They took their places on the topmost landing of the great stone staircase, the Princess positioned front and center. In all the years he had escorted her to public events, Mario had never seen her look so uncomfortable. She stood as rigid as a statue, struggling to smile as she waved to the roaring crowd. He had thought that her apparent paleness was due to the lighting in the entry hall, where they had convened only an hour earlier; but now, exposed to the setting sun, Mario could see that her color was clearly off. He wondered what might be troubling her, was even struck with the sudden desire to ask her. But he stopped himself, remembering all too well last night's letter. The wound it had left was still too fresh to act as if it had never happened.

He had thus decided to do no more today than his duty required, to avoid speaking to Peach unless the need arose. He had of course noticed her glances all throughout their time in the entry hall, waiting for the signal to depart. Had she wanted to speak with him? Mario had not found out, having instead passed the time discussing with Toadstone the monstrosity of a hat he had decided to wear for the occasion. Nearly as tall as he was, with bright orange and blue feathers covering the entirety of the ever-widening brim, he proudly explained to Mario that, if its seller could be believed, it had been manufactured in the Redwood Kingdom itself. "To wear a native garment, something they might be familiar with, is the least I could do!" he had said, beaming.

"Either way, I'm sure you will be a pleasant sight for our guests to behold," Mario had replied. The sarcasm was lost on the mayor, so happy was he under the weight of the feathered mess. Mario wondered if it might be blocking airflow to his brain.

To the right of the sworn protector on the landing, Toadburg stood just as still as Peach; although his own chubby figure could never be defined as rigid. The various metal pieces of his armor jutted out at odd angles to accommodate his bulging belly and beefy limbs, appearing as he so often did like a swollen insect in the late stages of molting. _Another one that the Oakhelms will find amusing_, Mario thought.

Anxiously waiting—for the King's arrival, or for some unforeseen disaster, he didn't know—Mario continued to scrutinize the people on either side of him. Toadsworth stood to Peach's left, as unreadable as ever. He looked upon the crowd with indifference, neither joining in their revelry nor opposing it with misery or anger, merely waving dutifully. _He would likely have argued against this public ceremony, had he been given the chance_, Mario thought.

Then to his left stood Toadstone, still wearing the atrocious multicolored headpiece that looked even worse in the sunlight, and clashed horribly with his conservative blue-pinstripe suit. He waved jubilantly at the citizens of his city, relishing in their happiness. Mario figured that Toadstone, so burdened by the capital's woes, would enjoy any public gathering in which his supplicants were not screaming, cursing, or throwing chairs at him (all of which had truthfully happened, if one could believe the melodramatic mayor).

Further down were his wife and children, the army general, and finally Luigi. He looked as hopeful as those around him, wielding a toothless grin that contained just a hint of smugness. While those nearest him waved constantly at their audience, Luigi's arms rarely left his sides. As Mario observed him now, he seemed to be looking beyond the masses, as if oblivious to their existence. But there was something else unusual about his appearance, Mario realized, staring at his brother in the dwindling light of the evening sun. His clothes appeared pressed, his shoes shined, and his hair and body meticulously groomed. Not that Luigi was usually a slob—he merely dedicated a minimal amount of time to his everyday appearance, Mario, his roommate, knew all too well. Even this little extra effort was noticeable. He recalled a period when Luigi had always shined his shoes and pressed his uniform, whenever Daisy had come to visit Peach. _I wonder who he's trying to impress today. _

Yet Luigi and the flamboyant Toadstone were not the only ones who had dressed especially for the occasion. Mario himself had decided to ditch his usual t-shirt and overalls for what he deemed a much more appropriate outfit. That evening, he was wearing the bleached white shirt, matching gloves, and burgundy overalls that composed his Fire Suit-the scientifically engineered uniform had been instrumental to Mario's countless campaigns against Bowser. _Fight fire with fire_, Mario had thought, when Professor Egad had first given it to him six years ago. Over time he had begun to wear it under less perilous circumstances-during the Princess' public appearances or tours about the kingdom, just in case he might need it. But he rarely had. As he had learned over the years, the suit was much more effective in its capacity to destroy than in its ability to protect.

Nevertheless, it had seemed to call his name as he rummaged through his closet earlier that day. After some thought, he had realized the value of wearing it to the ceremony. As always, he hoped that he would not have to use it; but the uncertainty he felt regarding the Redwood Kingdom, combined with the unpredictability of such well-attended event, was enough to make him take the extra precaution. Only upon his arrival at the castle that afternoon had he realized the irony of his situation: that he would be welcoming a kingdom so associated with trees, dressed in a suit that emitted fire. It was enough to make him laugh.

He had suspected Peach to be concerned about the Fire Suit's presence. She often expressed such worries, each time he donned the uniform-and each time Mario ignored them. But he recognized that her fears were not entirely unwarranted. Despite its ingenuity, the suit required something special from its operator in order to perform its intended function: an emotional stimulus. If Mario wanted the Fire Suit to operate at its maximum capacity, he needed to be angry-preferably, to be teeming with a fiery rage. His blood needed to boil. This was never a problem when attacking the enemies of Bowser, or even Bowser himself. It was the ideal weapon, as such rage was easily accessible, and Mario had little need to control it when enemies surrounded him from every side.

Under more delicate circumstances, however, its owner had to use the suit with some finesse. For in such situations the fire needed to be controlled, had to be directed; meaning that one's anger, while still essential to proper function, could not go unchecked. Mario, a man who was often prone to anger, always reminded himself of this caveat when putting on the volatile uniform. He knew he could never let his emotions get the better of him, not when innocent lives were at stake. He had always been careful, and Peach knew it; besides a few innocuous incidents, accidents involving the Fire Suit had been few and far between.

Now, finally forced into proximity with one another on the landing, Mario waited for an imminent warning from the Princess.

"The Fire Suit, Mario-are you sure it's a good idea?" she eventually asked, still maintaining a smile as she spoke in a worried tone. He could sense her gaze upon him, but was determined to keep his own eyes fixed forward. He would not smile forcibly, would not act cordial just for the sake of the occasion. Never the politician, Mario could not betray his feelings.

"I suppose I could take it off, and greet our guests in the nude," he replied nonchalantly. "Besides that, there's not much else I can do at this point. I'll be careful."

"Oh, please do."

She had always made him promise as much whenever he donned the wearable weapon in her presence. But today, her concern seemed particularly genuine-as if the risk of an accident was far greater than usual. _Is she as worried about an attack as I am_ He asked himself curiously. _Or is she just worried about me?_ Certainly the letter had upset him, but not to _that_ degree-not enough to warrant him unleashing a violent firestorm upon her at a public gathering.

Peach's eyes still lingered down on him. Mario could see himself and the Princess, in the form of their long and lengthened shadows, sprawled upon the smooth stone in front of them. Her shadow head, large and utterly disproportionate to the one of flesh and bone, turned emphatically toward him. His own shorter shadow stood parallel to hers, its head nearly a perfect oval as it persisted in looking forward, ignoring her.

_Was there more she wished to say?_ he wondered. After what felt like an eternity, her shadow head turned away, and she waved her shadow arms half-heartedly at her people below. He suddenly wondered if all of her worries-those regarding the Fire Suit, as well as those effecting such a noticeable discomfort in her expressions and actions-were in fact one in the same. But even this concern was not enough to break his silence.

After what felt to Mairo like half an hour of standing idly, trumpets sounded from atop the castle walls. The Goomba Gate slowly opened. And Peach visibly trembled, as the roar of the crowd reached an almost alarming volume. They knew, like Mario, who the doors had opened for.

The Redwood Kingdom. The Oakhelms.

They began to enter almost at once, the visitors from a faraway land. At first glance, it appeared as if a forest had uprooted itself, had acquired the ability to walk, and was now making its way along the processionary route. But Mario soon realized that these apparent trees, practically of a height with the gate, were no true trees at all; they were men, of a sort. Men on stilts, and of the strangest sort he had ever laid eyes on. They were dark of skin-similar in color to their brown, trunk-like stilts-and sported enormous emerald afros, so large that Mario doubted their authenticity. To their arms were attached rigid branched projections, ending in clumps of wide green leaves. The tree men, in two rows of ten, waved at the mesmerized crowd with their decorated upper limbs as they walked effortlessly up the stone path.

Mario, however, was not impressed. He found himself imagining these creatures on the battlefield, opposite Bowser and his armies. There was no question as to who the victor would be, in such a scenario. _Have they come to fight a war, or put on a show?_

The spectacle did not end there. Maneuvering their way through the stilted men were strange little creatures Mario could not identify, carrying baskets half their size and distributing their contents amongst the onlookers. _Food_, Mario realized from afar. The hungriest in the audience accepted the bread and fruit and cheese with tears in their eyes. _Maybe these Oakhelms aren't as foolish as their silly men on stilts. _

There were others-jesters, Mario assumed-dancing and juggling their way along the road. Such food and folly left all cheering and clapping, with even the welcoming party joining in. All except Peach, Mario noticed, whose anxiousness was more palpable than ever.

At the center of the parade, amidst the walking trees and other entertainers, and proceeding almost unnoticed by the distracted audience, was what Mario realized could only be the royal family. A group of thickset men armored entirely in what looked like tree bark, four to a side, were lugging an enormous litter of polished wood toward the castle. _For a Kingdom with such a namesake, they certainly don't mind destroying trees_, Mario thought. Upon the litter sat two men in elaborately carved wooden thrones, the backs of which were nearly as tall as the tree-men. As they drew closer, Mario could better distinguish the two figures. One was clearly older, the wrinkles on his sand-colored skin intensified by the wide smile with which he was greeting the onlookers. His shoulder-length, moss-colored hair shone brightly in the evening sun, looking as polished as his wooden throne. _King Xylander Oakhelm_, Mario presumed.

The other, younger man, was entirely unlike the other. His tall, willowy body did not fill his throne as effectively the King's opulent figure did his own. In fact, his dark chestnut skin blended so seamlessly with the wood behind him that one might have thought no man was seated there at all, merely a pile of clothes. His brilliant green afro was not unlike those of the tree-men, although of a relatively less preposterous size. The hair, however, was the only bright thing about the young man. He seemed utterly deaf to those hailing him, only rarely looking up between periods of sulking to smile—whenever the King looked at him, Mario noticed. Common sense told the astute observer that this could only be a _Prince_ Oakhelm. Besides the two men, and a dancing fool who circled their thrones, the litter was empty. _No wives_, Mario thought, wondering if the Queen and Princess Oakhelms had remained at home, or else were simply nonexistent.

After a quarter of an hour of slow progress, the entire procession reached its end, congregating along the edges of the castle plaza at the foot of the stone steps. The litter circled the large flowing fountain at its center, before descending so that the two royal figures might disembark. Flanked by his guards, King Oakhelm began his ascent toward the welcoming party, pausing at almost every step to turn and wave once more at the crowds. The supposed Prince, however, remained below, shying away from the masses and staring down at the folds of his green and silver-trimmed silk robes.

Peach and Toadsworth walked forward to greet the approaching King. Mario stayed back, knowing that it was not his place to make acquaintances with a royal dignitary at a public ceremony; his job was, for the most part, to remain unnoticed, unless a situation arose in which his skills were needed. They would have plenty of time later that evening for introductions, he suspected.

After a brief exchange of kisses and handshakes, Princess Toadstool and King Oakhelm turned, hand-in-hand, toward the plaza and the people populating it. The King stood directly in front of Mario, his heavyset frame effectively blocking the Sworn Protector's view of the crowd; but its fresh wave of applause was enough to indicate the citizens' delight at this sign of friendship.

When the noise subsided, Peach stepped forward and cleared her throat, in preparation for a speech.

"We kindly thank our new friends, the Oakhelms, for the generosity they have shown us today in the form of food and friendship," she began. Even in such proximity, Mario could tell that her voice was not carrying as well as it usually did. He doubted, too, that he was the only one to sense her lack of confidence. "In our new alliance, we hope not only to have gained bakers and farmers, but also comrades in battle. The Redwood Kingdom has offered aid to us in our fight against Bowser. If our two peoples can stand together in such troubling times as these, our relationship will surely flourish in times of peace!"

Her words were received with more claps and cheers. It had been a short sermon, which pleased Mario. He suspected that the Princess, like him, wanted to move past this spectacle as quickly as possible, so that more important matters could be dealt with.

But Peach's speech was not the last. The King himself stepped forward just as she retreated to his side, clearly eager to make his own impression. As he placed his arms behind his back and cleared his throat emphatically, the crowd hushed yet again.

"Thank you, thank you, Princess Peach. And many thanks to all of you, for such a _marvelous _welcome." Despite being shorter and much stouter than she was, his eloquent voice and impeccable enunciation better command his audience's attention, so Mario thought. He paused to scan the length of the processionary way, from plaza to gate, as if trying to make eye contact with each individual. "We are of course honored to visit the Mushroom Kingdom at long last. After hearing so many accounts of its beauty, it is wonderful to see that such tales were not exaggerated. And the same must be said of its ruler, your benevolent Princess, of course." He looked to her briefly, while many among the crowd laughed. "But we have come not just to honor a mere alliance between our two kingdoms, Mushroom and Redwood. We are also here to celebrate their future union. I have been told that the news has not yet been made public, but that I myself could do the honors. So…" He looked at Peach-who responded with a stone-faced smile-and then at the young man still lingering on the bottom step, who seemed to not even be paying attention.

Mario followed the King's gaze toward these two figures. In doing so, something seemed to click within _him_. The Princess' behavior, her glances and warnings to him, suddenly became clear, and all at once a sickening feeling entered his stomach. He feared he might throw up right then and there, and was suddenly glad that the King's robust figure was shielding him from the crowds below. _Surely it can't be_, he said to himself, knowing that it certainly was. _She can't..._

"...It is with great pleasure that I announce the engagement of Princess Peach Toadstool to my son and heir, Prince Emory Oakhelm." King Xylander paused, having anticipated the sounds of shock at this news. "May their marriage be long and happy, and produce many children, who will rule both kingdoms in times of endless peace and prosperity!"

The castle walls themselves might have trembled, so thunderous was the collective roar of audience, with so many people shouting and crying with joy for their beloved Princess. Mario, in a state of shock and deaf to all, stared up at her as well. _It all makes sense_, he had realized, his stomach slowly settling now that the initial shock had dissipated. _A marriage, of course. A marriage..._

He joined the rest of the retinue in stepping forward, just as the Prince himself was ascending the staircase at his father's request. Mario tried to smile along with everyone else, to show some sort of positive reaction toward the news. But he could not pretend to be happy; he could not hide his disappointment; and, above all, he could not quell a much more sinister feeling. It was as if the Fire Suit had penetrated his skin, and taken residence within his beating heart, effectively pumping a fiery rage through his veins. It was an anger as undirected as it was uncontrollable. Whether it was aimed at Peach (_Why hadn't she told me?_) Prince Emory (_A prince or a puppet?_ he thought, watching him approach at his father's call like a trained dog), or the ignorant onlookers (_What do they know, anyway? Who are they to approve of this?_), Mario did not know for sure.

Perhaps it was on account of the Prince's indifference regarding the matter, or his fresh arrival on the scene; but for a fleeting moment it was all Mario could do not to attack the green-haired man. He tried to fight the urge, to look away from him as he made his way toward the Princess. But to no avail. Emory, he saw, continued to look down at the steps, so focused was he on making sure he did not fall upon his long emerald robes. Mario recalled his demeanor on the litter, and was struck by a sudden thought. _Is this something that neither of them want? _he wondered, attempting to suppress his rage with feelings of sympathy.

_It makes no difference_, responded the fire within him. _It is a choice that both of them made_.

_You're fine_, he repeated to himself, over and over. _You're fine_. But he could not look down at the Prince any longer, and he certainly could not look at Peach. He instead stared up at the children on the balcony overlooking the scene, trying to imagine himself as happy by the announcement as they were.

But a violent and sudden motion, barely picked up in his field of vision, pulled Mario back to the stone stairs. On the last step before the landing, directly in front of Peach—his betrothed—Prince Oakhelm had tripped, his body having jerked awkwardly as his robes stretched tightly from being stepped upon. The Sworn Protector acted instinctively. He extended his left hand, in a futile attempt to catch the Prince mid-fall. The Princess, of a like mind, held out her gloved hands like one preparing to hold a baby.

It was during that transient moment in time, as he observed the Prince and Princess-arms reaching for one another, as if about to join in some strange embrace-that Mario's anger climaxed, and completely overwhelmed him. Quite unexpectedly and wholly unconsciously, a fireball erupted from the sleeve of his outstretched arm. It flew right between Peach and Prince Emory, skimming his hair and only just missing her pale face. Both were propelled backward by the blast-or else instinctively cowered away from the extreme heat. It then proceeded to whirl into sky above the crowd, and survived for only a few short seconds before fading into nothingness.

Mario, his anger quickly supplanted by a feeling of horror, continued as if nothing had happened. He reached down for Prince Emory-whose fall had been disrupted by the fireball, but sadly not prevented-and helped him back to his feet. He prayed to the stars that his mistake had gone mostly unnoticed, but knew that Peach, for one, could not have seen it more clearly.

But seconds later, Mario realized that it was not to be. He smelled it before he saw it, the familiar odor of singed hair tickling his nose. Then the Princess shrieked, and he hesitantly proceeded to follow her panicked gaze. He himself let out a gasp. The fire had indeed left its mark—it had lit Prince Oakhelm on fire.

Emory, his hair ablaze, was still getting over the embarrassment of his fall, and was seemingly the last person aware of his more present predicament. No sooner had he sensed the overpowering heat, looked up, and let out a low and sonorous _Ohhhh_, than was he suddenly buried in a blanket of green. King Oakhelm had rushed forward, had acted more quickly than the awestruck Mario, by sacrificing his own cloak to smother the fire.

No one on the landing spoke. The King patted the cloak and his son beneath it in an effort to beat away any lingering flames. Peach stood at his side, her hands covering her mouth. Toadsworth joined the huddled group as well, for once at a loss for words. He instead glared menacingly at Mario. The old toad would have seen the fireball's creator from his position, would have known even if he hadn't witnessed it himself who had produced it. How many others witnessed his role in this, he could only guess.

The whole fiasco—from fall to flames—had transpired within a matter of seconds. And yet the celebratory mood of the crowd, much like the flames, had been smothered almost instantaneously. It appeared as if everyone had seen the blazing Prince, judging by the looks of horror on their faces. Some spectators were mumbling to one another; others were shouting indistinguishably. Mario thought he saw several people eying him suspiciously.

Eventually the King stepped away from the emerald heap that was his son, confident that the danger had passed. But the Prince made no attempt to uncover himself. Now doubly embarrassed, he seemed keen on hiding beneath the cloak for the remainder of the ceremony. It was Peach, staring from Mario to Emory to Toadsworth, who broke the silence.

"Prince—Prince Emory," she said quietly, rapping on the cloak gently as if knocking on a door. "Oh, are you alright? Let us see—"

"I'm sure he's just fine," interrupted the King, hastily removing the damaged cloak and repinning it around himself.

The Prince, having fallen to a kneeling position to allow the cloth to fully consume him, rose once again to full height. He touched his hair nervously, assessing how much had been eaten away by flames. Mario, upon seeing that the damage appeared quite minimal, gave a sigh of relief. He would certainly need a trim to cut out the burned bits; but hair always grew back. He concluded that the Prince's afro had been absurdly long, and had been in bad need of a cut anyway. _If anything, I did him a favor. _He decided to keep this thought to himself.

Seemingly content himself with the amount of afro left unburnt, Emory forced a smile. "I—yes, I believe I'm quite alright," he said finally, trying to regain the somber, distant attitude he had exuded prior to his tragic tumble. "I hope...that we can try this meeting again, Princess."

Mario, who had felt the need to speak—to apologize in some way—now thought better of it to interrupt the proceedings any further. Emory, for one, seemed to be altogether unconcerned with discovering the source of his scorched hair. Perhaps, thought Mario, he had considered the whole incident some Mushroom Kingdom custom, a cultural greeting for visitors. Or perhaps he was merely being courteous in front of the audience. The truth of the matter would be known by all eventually, Mario knew. And he would have to answer for what he had unintentionally done.

Apparently Peach also thought it best not to mention the flying fireball at present. As Emory approached her, and kissed her on both cheeks, she stood as still as stone, her hands clasped in front of her. This sign of affection between the Prince and Princess calmed the confused citizens, inspiring among their numbers a new wave of muffled applause.

But as the ceremony concluded and the crowds dispersed, it was in a mood far different from the one in which they had arrived. Word of the fireball seemed to spread as quickly as the flames themselves, those farthest from the castle no doubt receiving their own distorted account of events. Mario knew his Fire Suit was famous throughout the kingdom. _Surely they'll connect the dots_. As he returned across the bridge toward the castle doors with the others on the landing, he felt the stabs of a hundred icy and accusatory glares.

He received nothing better from the members of the welcoming party once they were back inside the castle. They stared at him just as coldly, or openly scowled as he passed by.

Out of nowhere Toadsworth came upon him-his fury propelling him forward-and poked the Sworn Protector in the belly with his wooden cane. "What on earth has come over you, Master Mario?" he shouted, his voice reverberating off the high stone ceilings. "Your foolishness nearly ruined what was to be a perfect welcoming. If this should have any lasting consequences on our relations with the Oakhelms, it will be you who suffers, mark my words."

"I…" Mario began, but could not think of what to say. Then a flash of pink caught his eye, and he looked up. Peach had already ascended the grand stair, and looked down at him from the second-story landing. A sad expression occupied her face, one that Mario could not decipher. _Is she as angry as Toadsworth?_ It didn't appear so. _Is she sorry about the marriage, about not telling me? _He presumed so, even hoped it. Despite the blow he had just received regarding Peach's engagement-or perhaps because of it-Mario simply wanted to rush up to meet her, to explain himself, to be close to her again. But he knew it would not be proper, not after what had just transpired outside. Before he could fully fight off or act on this desire, she quickly turned away and disappeared from view.

All at once the urge to follow her subsided, a new feeling of defeat slowly consuming him. _She belongs to someone else now. Or will, soon enough._

Wanting nothing more than to escape the hostility of his current environment, Mario turned back for the main doors. Then he thought of the crowds outside, still lingering within the castle gates, and what they might say or do to him without the Princess watching. He headed for the basement kitchens instead, a route toward a lesser known gate through which he could hopefully slip out unnoticed.

As Mario crammed himself through the dark toad-sized passageways, recounting those few disastrous seconds over and over in his mind, he finally realized the irony of it all. His fear of an unforeseen danger at the welcome ceremony had indeed been justified. The threat had been Mario himself.


	8. Chapter II: Toadstool & Oakhelm (Pt 3)

**Chapter Two: Toadstool and Oakhelm (Part Three)**

_Like acorns_, thought Toadette, as the party of seedlers bowed to her and her brother in the dark and dusty castle kitchens. _They look like acorns!_

The Redwood servants were of a similar height with the toads; but the resemblances between the two species stopped there. Each ovoid seedler face varied in its shade of brown—some as light as sand, others as dark as chestnut—all of which accentuated the whiteness of their eyes and buck teeth to some degree. They wore identical uniforms: sleeveless, olive-green smocks that hugged their thin bodies tightly down to their knobbly knees; oversized wooden sandals, with plant leaves that wrapped around their tiny feet; and, covering all of their heads nearly to the brow, what Toadette thought were diamond-patterned, copper-colored beanies, the tops of which ended in a distinct point. Despite their bagginess, the hats remained fixed in position as the seedlers rose from their bow.

She laughed inwardly at these foreign creatures. But, seeing their eyes now fixed on her and Toad, she began to wonder what they, in turn, might be thinking of them. She became all too aware of her own small body, large round head, and pink polka-dot pigtails, now swaying back and forth as she fidgeted anxiously. _They probably think I'm some grotesque mutant_, she worried to herself, not taking in a word what was being said around her.

"Miss Toadette?!" someone finally shouted.

A subtle nudge from Toad brought her back to reality. She smiled overenthusiastically, as her eyes fell upon an almond-colored seedler who was staring back at her. _Was he talking to me? _

She assumed so. "Yes?" she asked him, trying to sound confident. "So sorry, mister…I'm sorry, I didn't catch your name."

But her addressee's eyes grew wide with embarrassment, and he immediately looked down at the wooden floor. Clearly, Toadette had made a mistake.

"Ahem!" interrupted another seedler, who now stepped out in front of his cohorts. "_I_, Miss Toadette, am Linux. I was merely commenting that you and your brother are lucky to serve in such _A MAGNIFICENT CASTLE_." He nearly shouted the last three words, as if making every effort not to lose Toadette's attention now that he had finally seized it. "I hope that we can get through this tour quickly?" he said, turning back to Toad. "Despite doling out so much food to your people during the parade, we've hardly eaten anything ourselves since mid-morning."

"Of course, Mister Linux," Toad replied, practically bursting with excitement. "The short version it is. I trust you'll have plenty of time to explore the rest of the castle on your own time. Now, let's get started!"

Toadette herself knew all too well her brother's seemingly infinite knowledge of the castle, as well as the enthusiasm with which he always relayed such information to others during tours. Thus, she feared that his "abbreviated" version would hardly be the quick run-through the seedlers were hoping for. Sighing, she fell in line among the visitors as Toad led them out of the kitchens and up the servants' staircase at a rapid pace.

Toadsworth had tasked the pair of them that morning with familiarizing their guests with the residence and grounds, hoping to get such logistics out of the way while he and the Princess dined with the Oakhelms that evening. "They'll be here for quite some time, I imagine," he had muttered, talking to himself more than them. "It will be your responsibility, Master Toad and Miss Toadette, to settle them in and show them around, enough so that they can perform their duties properly. Show and tell them everything you know."

An order that Toad had taken to heart, despite Linux's request. He was dramatically recounting the history of the Boo that had haunted the second-floor broom closet for centuries, unaware of the disinterest of his audience. Toadette rolled her eyes, but did nothing herself to hasten the party's progress. She remained at the back of the little procession-a spot of pink in a horde of brown.

With her brother having comfortably taken charge, Toadette's mind began to wander. She thought once more of the welcome ceremony just an hour earlier; how she had nearly burst into tears upon hearing of her Princess' engagement. She approved of her match to Prince Emory whole-heartedly. He was an exotic man for sure, with his dark skin and wild green hair; and yet undeniably handsome because of it. _He would be the perfect prince for her_, she had thought, before their union had even been formally announced.

Toadette had not initially given any thought to Mario at all, or what his thoughts on the matter might be. _Not until he let that fireball loose_. She had seen very little of the ensuing chaos herself from her position at the foot of the stone steps, given her small size. Her account was mostly hearsay from her fellow toads-a hodgepodge of various exaggerations, she suspected.

"As soon as the King announced the marriage, Mario lunged right at the Prince with his hands ablaze!" Toadixa had told her fellow toads at their supper. "Emory would have burned to bits, had the Princess and King not intervened. Mario's probably being locked away in the dungeons as we speak." The washerwoman, always a dramatist, had clearly succeeded in captivating her listeners, eager for her first-row account of the action. But Toadette knew Mario well enough to doubt that he would never act so rashly. At the same time, she admitted that he could not be wholly absolved of blame. As far as she had seen, only one person on the stage had been wearing a fire-producing suit.

"Any way yeh slice it, it was Mario tha' shot tha' fire," the head cook had concluded. "And yeh don't have tah be a magikoopa tah figure out why he did it."

Regardless of its intentions or implications, the fireball had served as a sullen reminder of Mario's presence, and how it complicated matters for the Prince and Princess. If Mario and Peach truly loved one another, as many expected, then what did the future hold for them now? The question troubled Toadette, as Linux was busy questioning Toad as to the relevance of a planetarium visit. As Bowser's nemesis, surely Mario would not want to ruin the only chance the Mushroom Kingdom had at defeating him, perhaps for good. Moreso, an upstart plumber like himself would simply never be worthy of the Princess' hand in marriage. Even the little handmaiden, as plain and simple as she was, knew that.

The servant party made its way up and down the small staircases that connected various halls and rooms, designed so that the toads could go about their duties unnoticed by others. Now, back in the basement, they came upon a narrow hallway, its many doors opening to the small guest bedrooms prepared for the seedlers. Toadette thought them cramped and musty, especially when compared to her own large and airy chamber in the Princess' high tower. But the Oakhelm servants, upon inspecting them, seemed more than pleased.

"Yes, yes, I'm sure they will be quite sufficient," remarked Linux to Toad as the others settled into their rooms. He stood with his arms crossed, occasionally petting the stubble of dark hair above his lip that could barely be deemed a mustache. "Everyone's quite excited about the change of scenery, as you might be able to tell. But I've reminded them that this by no means a vacation-we all still have work to do. Now, Mister Toad, aside from being His Majesty The King's own butler, I also serve as head of his entire staff. If any trouble should arise during our stay, please do not hesitate to come to me immediately. Or else, if I am indisposed, you have my permission to dole out punishments as you, head butler in this castle, see fit"

"Um…of course, sir," Toad replied, trying unsuccessfully to use an authoritative tone similar to Linux's. Toadette stifled back giggles. She knew as well as everyone else Toad's lax reputation as head of the castle staff. Thankfully, the stars had gifted him with motivated and dependable subordinates. If ever reprimanding was in order, the responsibility seemed to fall on Toadsworth-Toadette had never once witnessed her brother punish any one of her fellow workers. She therefore doubted that he would hold the seedlers to the strict standards that Linux seemed to expect.

After dividing up rooms and settling in, the party reconvened with all seedlers seemingly in attendance. Toad insisted there were only a few more essential areas to see-and that, if time permitted, he would be more than willing to show them the dungeons.

Toadette again chose to bring up the rear, partly to remain unnoticed, and partly to escape her brother's incessant commentary about this column and that aberration in the stonework. She was about to turn the corner, already at a distance from the rest of the group, when she noticed that she was not, in fact, the last in the procession-a seedler still lingered in the hallway, his eyes transfixed on one of its many paintings. He was the one of almond-colored skin, Toadette realized, who had been so embarrassed when she had wrongly addressed him earlier. With the rest of the tour group already halfway down the next corridor, she took it upon herself to retrieve the straggler.

She approached as noisily as she could, in an attempt to make her presence known to the inattentive seedler. But it seemed as if nothing could pull him away from the painting. Despite walking by it regularly, Toadette had never paid it much attention-she had never been much of an admirer of artwork. She looked again at the simple landscape, with its sea of evergreens and oak trees, divided by a rushing river; yet even now it did little to captivate her. The seedler, however, continued to stare at it solemnly. _If I wanted to look at nature, I could just go to Peach's gardens. You would think this one has never seen a tree before_, she thought to herself.

"Missing home?" Toadette asked rather loudly, so determined was she to make the seedler notice her. She succeeded; as before, he panicked at the sound of her voice, giving a small yelp and jumping with fright. Toadette backed away, she herself being slightly startled by his extreme reaction. _How horrifying am I?_ she wondered nervously.

But he too seemed to recognize his overreaction, and quickly composed himself. "I—I'm sorry, miss," he said timidly. "I thought I was alone. Just stopped for a minute to look at the trees, and thought…"

He did not finish his sentence, but stared longingly at the painting once more, not paying Toadette the slightest attention.

"I've never seen a forest like it," she said, trying to keep the conversation going and get him back to the others. "Is this what your kingdom looks like? Are those Redwoods?"

He looked at her frightfully, a bead of sweat forming on his dark brow. His discomfort at answering such a simple question perplexed Toadette, who had always considered herself a nervous talker. _Compared to this one, I'm practically a social butterfly_, she thought to herself.

"Well…yes, I 'spose so, miss," he finally replied, eyes darting up and down the hall, never once making contact with Toadette. "Lots of trees there, of course. Some as tall as this castle, if you can believe it!" He paused once more, looking down at the floor in deep thought, as if trying to recall a memory long forgotten.

After what felt like minutes of silence the seedler looked up at her."Just a real beautiful picture, that's all," he said, smiling nervously and nodding towards the landscape. "I'm sorry if I've kept you, I know the tour isn't quite over yet…"

Toadette smiled back, sensing that her new acquaintance was no longer afraid of her. "Don't worry, I'm sure you're not missing much. And there are lots of nice paintings like this one all over the castle. Come on, let's catch up with the others and see if we can find any more."

The seedler beamed at her-an expression that suited his face much more than did anxiety or fear, so the handmaiden thought. "Of course, Miss Toadette." And so the pair parted from the painting, walking side by side down the cramped corridor at a pace far too leisurely to give them any hope of catching up to the others. But Toadette did nothing to hasten them onward.

"I'm Cornwell, by the way. Prince Emory's butler," The seedler said.

"It's nice to meet you, Mister Cornwell." She looked at him bashfully before turning away. _He seems nice enough_, she thought to herself, her own feelings of intimidation and self consciousness slowly dissolving. _And who's to say the other seedlers won't be the same?_

Walking side-by-side with her newfound friend, Toadette was suddenly overcome by a rare sense of optimism. She had been so pleased upon hearing of her Princess' impending marriage; she had not even considered what it might mean for her. For the joining of the two houses meant multiple unions-that of their heirs as well as their staffs. Regardless of where the Prince and Princess chose to live out their days-would the two kingdoms permanently merge? the handmaiden suddenly thought, having not considered this possibility before-the toads and seedlers would certainly be seeing more of one another. Especially herself and Cornwell, she now realized, given that they both served the royal couple.

Having broken down the initial barrier between herself and the seedlers, the prospect of new friendships now excited Toadette. The mood in the castle had been far too melancholy as of late, being so affected by the war-torn world outside its walls. Perhaps the arrival of the Redwood staff could aid in cheering up the toads, just as the Redwood armies would improve matters abroad. She had viewed the arrival of the Oakhelms with indifference for so long; only now, with the King, Prince, and all of the others here at last, were the repercussions of this new alliance quickly making themselves known to her. Visions of the upcoming feast, and weddings, of victory over Bowser and the ensuing celebrations suddenly filled her head, and made her nearly giggle with delight. She quickened her pace subconsciously, as if doing so might speed up time itself. Cornwell followed her lead, and soon enough the two of them were running alongside one another, making more of an effort to catch up with Toad and the seedlers. They were still far behind, she suspected; but, having now befriended one seedler, she found herself eager to rejoin the group in hopes of making acquaintance with the others.

But when the pair turned the corner, it was not with the seedlers or her brother that Toadette collided. She raised her hand instinctively to lessen her impact with _something_. Looking up, and slowly adjusting to the darkness of the adjacent corridor, Toadette found herself face to face with a monster.

It was she who was now shrieking, and shrinking back in terror from the strangest creature she had ever seen. Its skin was a pale green, heavily spotted with darker moss-colored patches that gave the overall impression of a sickly giraffe. A hollow tree trunk encased its body, from scrawny thighs to its elongated neck; its head poked out of the top like a koopa from its shell. It was this narrow, heart-shaped face, craning down at her, that frightened Toadette most of all. Its skin was nearly as gnarled as the trunk garment, and accentuated by a crooked and pointy nose. A thick wooden band sat atop his head-some sort of mangled crown, with its many twigs protruding in all directions. The leaves at their ends lurched back and forth as its owner danced around the startled handmaiden.

"Did I frigh'en you, lil' miss?" the creature asked, leaning even closer toward Toadette, as much as its rigid garment would allow. She could hardly understand him-partly on account of her current distress, but even more so because of his poor enunciation. It sounded as if some sticky substance lined his mouth, thus congealing all of his words together into one incoherent drivel. "Jus' 'plorin' the castle, s'all. On ordas' uh' the Kingimselv!"

He smiled all the while, either ignorant or uncaring of Toadette's obvious panic. She made no attempt to respond, instead focusing her energy on trying to fight back her tears and escape his clutches. At the first chance that arrived Toadette broke away from him-she had enough wits left to surmise that this thing was male-and sprinted down the unlit corridor towards the dining hall. He made no immediate attempt to follow her, she was glad to discover.

_I have to find Toad_, she resolved, her fear lessening as her distance from the monster increased. She had to warn someone about this obvious intruder-she might have been the first person to see him. Suddenly she became acutely aware of her solitude-Cornwell was nowhere to be seen. _Probably ran off too_, she figured, not giving it another thought given the matter at hand.

Her rush in finding her brother turned out to been vain. No sooner had she reached the wooden door at the hallway's end when it swung open before her. Toad himself burst onto the scene, followed by the seedlers, who nearly trampled Toadette in their haste.

Toad gave a sigh of relief upon seeing his sister unharmed. "We heard you scream!" he said worryingly, placing his arms on her shoulders as a means of consoling her as well as to prevent their imminent collision. The rest of the group stopped behind him, staring widely at the hysterical little toad before them. For Toadette was not calmed by these new arrivals; they were all strangers, analyzing her as harshly as ever, it seemed to her. And that creature still lingered _somewhere_ behind her, she knew; yet none of them seemed to take any notice of it. _Do they not see it?_ _Have I gone mad?_

But before she could say anything, the monster hopped upon the group, landing right beside Toadette. She could not control herself, emitting a shrill yelp that echoed down the long hallway.

"Th' miss wah screamin' tah me, y'see," he said, looking down at the seedlers. "Not likin' thlook o' pooor old Saphwise, thas wha' I bet."

Toadette looked toward her brother, assuming that he, at least, would see the obvious source of her panic. Surely she could not have imagined him, for many of the seedlers were looking right at him-although they did not seem the slightest bit alarmed. Yet surely they would all see that something was amiss-that this creature was not welcome in the castle.

Instead, to Toadette's horror, Linux and the others behind him began to laugh. Even Toad let out a snigger. She stared at them all, open-mouthed.

"Miss Toadette, there is _no_ need to fear this man," the King's butler informed her, as if this were obvious. "This here is King Xylander's fool—Sapwise, as he called himself. Not a dangerous bone in his body. Mind you, I would only recommend enjoying his antics from a distance-I believe he neglects proper hygienic practices, and the sap is awfully hard to get rid of once he touches you."

"Sticky sticky's Saphwise!" the fool shouted, nodding his head in agreement. He then danced his way over to a seedler, and wiped a long and glistening hand on his unsuspecting face. The recoiled in disgust, trying unsuccessfully to rub away the goop on his cheek while the others laughed and clapped. Even Toadette managed a small smile. _Just a fool, _she tried to tell herself, as the misidentified monster hopped and sang. And yet her heartbeat continued to quicken every time he approached her, continuing to perform tricks in the cramped corridor. She noticed, too, that her own hands were covered in his sweet-smelling sap-most likely from the collision of their fateful meeting. As Toadette worked to rub away the viscous substance, she realized that wiping away her horrific first encounter with Sapwise from her memory would be infinitely more difficult.

"I'm…I'm sorry," she said finally, when the fool eventually took leave of them to resume his aimless wandering.

"Don't worry about it," said Toad, putting his arm around his sister. "If you had been with us, we would have all ran into him together. I'm sure I would have been just as scared if I had met him alone, in a dark hallway like this! But who knows, really? And why were you so far behind, anyway? A seedler's mising, did you happen to see him?"

"Yes..." Toadette replied softly, looking back down the corridor from whence she and Cornwell had only recently run. _But where had he gone?_ she wondered to herself. She couldn't help but be angry with him, whom she had made such an effort to comfort, and who had in return left her alone and embarrassed. He, like the other seedlers, must have known who Sapwise was-surely he could have alleviated her initial fears to some extent, rather than run off on his own. But, thinking back to Cornwell's easily frightened nature, she could not say that he was surprised.

"I don't think he was feeling well," Toadette added, not sure herself why she was lying for the friend who had abandoned her. "Too much traveling for one day. He said he was going to rest up in his room."

"Alright then!" Toad said, clapping his hands together in a satisfied manner. "Let's finish this up then."

"You mean there's more?" one seedler asked exhaustedly. Apparently they were under the assumption that the return to the basement had signaled the end of the tour.

And so the group turned back, with Toad leading the way toward the dining rooms. Toadette fell in line to her former position at the back of the procession, now too ashamed to socialize. She found herself constantly looking behind her back, fearing Sapwise's return. _He's nothing to be afraid of_, she reminded herself, hoping that by repeating Linux's words, she would start believing them herself. But nothing could supplant the fear that was caused by that first encounter. She would never laugh at his jokes, never see him for the fool everyone else said he was. To her, Sapwise would always be a monster, whose features had been even more grotesquely distorted by the shadows of that dark corridor.

All thoughts of the parties to come, of Peach's wedding and happy life with the Prince, of her and Cornwell serving the royal couple together, had faded away with the turn of that corner. Now, figuring that Sapwise's haunting of the castle would only cease with the departure of his master, she concluded that King Oakhelm's departure with the rest of the Redwood Court could not come soon enough.


	9. Chapter II: Toadstool & Oakhelm (Pt 4)

**Chapter Two: Toadstool and Oakhelm (Part Four)**

Luigi strode down Toadstool Way, borne blissfully by his own self-assurance. He paid no attention to the beggars asking for coin, and passed lines of refugees, waiting outside soup kitchens for a paltry evening meal, without a second thought. Luigi's luck had seemingly immunized him from the sorrows of the rest of the world. Such good fortune, having evaded him throughout his years of service thus far, had finally made its presence known to him on the day when he needed it most.

His brother's misstep at the welcome ceremony had been the first in a series of auspicious events. He assumed that, however the catastrophe had unfolded-Luigi had seen only glimpses from his vantage point-its origins had been wholly accidental. Despite his obvious feelings for Peach, Mario would never have openly attacked such a distinguished guest, Luigi knew. _And the princess' betrothed, at that!_ He had never seen a more botched introduction as the one his brother had given the Oakhelms. It made Mario's future in the Princess' court dubious, to say the least. Could such a mistake be rectified, during such tumultuous times as these? Luigi did not know for sure.

What he did know was that such an ominous event for Mario would no doubt be a boon to himself. _It will be difficult to make a worse first impression than that, _Luigi had thought to himself earlier that evening, as Peach and her guests, Luigi among them, dined with the Oakhelms following the public ceremony.

Luigi's new-found luck was not quick to abandon him: at dinner he had been seated directly across from the head of the Redwood Guard. With the images of Mario's attempts to extinguish the prince's flaming hair still playing in his mind, he was able to face the formidable figure of Commander Querkis with confidence. He was a giant by all standards-a foot taller than anyone else in the room, even when seated, and nearly three times as wide as Toadberg, whose girth Luigi had once considered unparalleled. But unlike his Mushroom Kingdom counterpart, whose weight was concentrated in the paunch of his belly, the Redwood commander looked to be all muscle, with a v-shaped torso supporting broad shoulders. This massive frame was covered by a suit of armor, which at first glance appeared to be made solely of tree bark. But, as he stretched out his gloved hand over a basket of bread to shake Luigi's, the clattering of metal was unmistakable. _Wood on the outside, iron on the inside_, he had realized.

"Master Luigi," grumbled the Commander, his deep voice muffled by an all-iron helmet. It was the only hint of the metal interior that lined the entire outfit.

"Commander Querkis," replied Luigi, having learned the names of all the Redwood Court's most influential figures earlier that day. He stared fixedly at the great man's face, if only to prove that his size did not intimidate him. The patches of skin left exposed by the helm were so wrinkled and scarred that Luigi had trouble distinguishing them from bark. He found it odd, that the commander would remain armored from head to toe during such an intimate occasion. His attire certainly seemed to be putting other diners on edge. Toadstone, dwarfed by the gargantuan commander beside him, kept glancing at him frightfully, as if he feared he might unsheath his sword at any moment.

"It is an honor to meet a soldier as distinguished as yourself," Luigi continued, hiding any sense of unease. "Kingdoms such as Redwood are powerless without the aid of armies to defeat their enemies and defend their borders. Your leadership must be the stuff of legend, with the Oakhelms having achieved so much in so little time."

The thick armor apparently did little to shield Querkis from such flattery, Luigi was pleased to discover. He detected the rising lines of the tiniest smile amongst the dozens of other creases marking his face.

"You speak truly, Luigi. We fought hard for the lands we hold, sacrificed much and many. All for our master, the father of our realm."

_Master_, Luigi repeated to himself, so that he would remember how the Redwoods addressed their king. He figured that such customs as these, as trivial as they might seem, might nevertheless aid him in his attempt to win the favor of the royal house.

With greetings out of the way, Luigi was glad to find that it was the Querkis himself who continued the conversation, leaning at a dangerous degree in his antique chair.

"And do not think that I am unaware of your own history and adventures, sir. Tales of the legendary Mario Brothers are known all throughout our kingdom."

Soon enough, the two were talking like old friends, passing the time between dishes by recounting the journeys of Luigi that Querkis knew best. There were stories that painted him the hero, which Luigi tried his best to linger on; and others that were utter embarrassments that he would rather not have discussed. Yet it was the latter type that made the commander laugh heartily, his booming guffaw momentarily ceasing all other conversation at the table. Luigi, despite his shame, saw no pressing reason to dampen his jolly mood. Instead, he tried to paint himself in a more positive light, despite the humiliating circumstances of such adventures.

The retelling of stories carried them through courses of rabbit soup and Piranha Plant salad, fried blooper and roast beef, and fruit with honey and strawberry shortcake, without a single break in conversation. They continued their reminiscing in the sitting room, where the dining party proceeded at the meal's conclusion. It was only after recounting a particularly awkward story at Querkis' request, in which he had escaped Bowser's castle and traveled all the way back to Toad Town wearing nothing but a Koopa shell, that Luigi saw fit to change the subject. The commander had certainly had his fair share of laughs.

"I hope you see from such incidents as these that I'll do whatever it takes to finish a job," he had started, having deposited his empty glass on the tray of the nearest serving toad.

"There's no denying that!" Querkis roared in agreement. Even within this smaller setting, with others carrying on separate conversations nearby, he seemed to have no concept of lowering his voice.

Luigi cleared his throat, having prepared in his mind what he knew he had to say. _Here goes nothing._

"And, despite what is said in the Mushroom Kingdom, I can be equally as successful in the field as my brother, Mario, if only given the chance. With the onset of our kingdoms' new alliance, I feel like that opportunity has presented itself. Commander, I would ask you to consider me for a position in your own guard."

Querkis had stared at him, expressionless. Then he had let out another deep laugh, champagne having spilled out over his glass and onto the white carpet. "Gettin' right to the point, aren't you, Luigi?" He had slapped him on the shoulder-fortunately he had removed his gloves at the onset of dinner. Nevertheless, Luigi had braced himself just in time to withstand the strong force of a hand as thick and leathery as animal hide.

"Yes, a rearrangement of guards will indeed be necessary with a marriage on the way," Querkis had continued, to Luigi's delight. "Nothing—or no one, should I say—preventing you from heading east, if duty calls?"

"Nothing at all."

Querkis had nodded approvingly, just as his master, King Xylander, had begun calling his name and beckoning him. "Then I will keep you in mind, sir. Until we meet again."

Reflecting on all that had happened thus far, Luigi realized that the day could not have gone more in his favor. Smiling as smugly as ever, he strutted down the cobblestone street in a state of utter bliss. His ambitions were taking shape before him, no longer just mere fantasies wallowing within his mind. He could, even now, picture his future self more vividly, marching alongside Commander Querkis and the rest of the Redwood Guard in the shadows of the great oak trees, far away from his brother and all of those bothersome toads.

Part of him knew that there was still a long way to go before his end goal was achieved. There was a promise of success, to be sure, but he recognized the obstacles that still needed to be overcome. He had made a good impression with the army leader; but what about the Oakhelms themselves? If there was any hope of him serving the King and Prince, they would have to grow to like and trust him. And that would take time and effort.

At the same time as these thoughts occupied him, another optimistic little voice in Luigi's head did its best to chime in: _surely this initial triumph is more than deserving of a celebratory drink_, it reasoned. And Luigi, realizing that what still needed to be done was a worry for another day, gave into this tiny persuader all too easily.

_But where to go_? he thought to himself. He could not so easily forget last night's fiasco at the Tipsy Shroom, thanks to a dull but persistent headache that had burdened him throughout the day. Luigi resolved not to return there anytime soon. _Somewhere more respectable_, he decided, in light of the occasion.

And, as if fortune was waiting eagerly in response, no sooner had Luigi made this conclusion than he happened upon the white-and-green-bricked façade of the One-Up Tavern. Like the other businesses of this affluent neighborhood in the shadows of the castle walls, the upscale eatery had been little affected by the war. Its frequenters were of the more sophisticated type-that is to say, they could afford to dine out even when the realm itself was struggling. Luigi doubted he would find any of the hooligans who had dragged him down into such dismay the previous night here. At least some of his guard friends, on the other hand, were more than likely to be enjoying ale within-and would be more than willing to share in his revelries. Luigi took one last look at the stars above, as if in acknowledgement for the luck they had given him thus far, before pushing open the heavy double doors of the tavern.

But, just as the stars remained in the sky, so Luigi's luck seemed to have left him at the door. In the ambient light around the mushroom-shaped bar he saw few of his friends-none of whom were among his closest drinking companions. He sighed, being in no mood to celebrate with mere acquaintances. He scanned the restaurant more widely, thinking that wondering if some of the guards might instead be dining at booths. But his luck did not improve. On the contrary, he soon took notice of two figures sitting together at a corner table and groaned. Toad, the Princess' head servant, was seated across from none other than Mario himself, facing away from the door and his brother. Luigi, seeing no reason to stay and every reason to seek out another tavern, figured it best to retreat back outside before anyone, especially Toad, saw him.

Perhaps it was because he had been mistakenly looking in their direction, practically begging to be noticed by the pair; or maybe his fleeting good fortune had truly been extinguished. But the little butler, as observant as always, started waving in Luigi's direction with a look of happiness and desperation, before Luigi had even begun to execute his escape.

"Luigi! Luigi! Over here!" Toad shouted in that constantly-cracking cackle of a voice Luigi so loathed. Seeing no way to ignore him politely-he had been staring right at him, after all-he slowly made him way to their spot in the corner with a forced smile. _I'll stay for a drink, and no more_.

He sat himself on the cushioned bench beside Toad, and face-to-face with his woebegone brother. Mario's head was propped up by his hands, their thick fingers disheveling his matted brown hair. Luigi was surprised to see that he still wore his fire suit. He soon realized, however, that there was no need to fear another accident; it looked as if life itself had been extinguished from its wearer.

"Hey, brother," Luigi began, unsure of what else he should say. _Do I console him?_ He had never been good at comforting others, and had no desire to spend the whole evening wallowing in Mario's despair. Yet he could not help but pity the creature before him. A small part of Luigi knew that, given the success he had achieved that day, the least he could do was spend a few minutes cheering up the person from whose mistake he had seemingly benefited.

"Listen, I'm really sorry about what—"

"There's no need Luigi," Mario interjected in a low grumble, still staring down at his placemat on the wooden table. He had hardly touched the food and drink in front of him. "It's nobody's fault but my own, and there's nothing else to say. At least not now, not here-I'm sure I'll have to answer for what happened, sooner or later."

_I'm sure you will_, Luigi said to himself, thinking of the stench of the Prince's singed hair that had polluted the air around the welcoming party. But he did not linger on this memory. Instead, he considered how he might improve Mario's mood as quickly as possible. For the hour was already growing late.

"Mario, no one thinks that you meant to do it!" He said it because it felt right to say, not because he knew it to be true. Luigi himself had not spoken to anyone who had been in the crowd. For all he knew, the city folk were already planning to rise up against him, in defense of the Princess and her husband-to-be. And, as to how the Oakhelms themselves saw the matter, Luigi was none the wiser after dining with them, having spent the whole time with Querkis. He now regretted socializing solely with the commander, rather than trying to talk to the King and Prince as well. _Another time. _

He drew his attention back to his brother, hiding his uncertainty under the cover of optimism. "Just give it time. Surely everyone will soon recognize what happened as the mistake that it was," Luigi concluded in a confident tone. _Or so you better hope._

Toad suddenly banged his tiny fist on the table, an action that startled both Mario Brothers. "That's just what I've been saying to him, Luigi!" he exclaimed, evidently relieved to have acquired a companion to help combat Mario's misery. "Listen, Mario. This is hardly as bad as you're making it seem," he continued, trying to take advantage of this new-found support. "Sure, Toadsworth might die before he forgets this-but he's never really liked you, so you're not exactly losing any fans there. But, like Luigi said, it was just an accident...I'm sure it was." He paused briefly, as if hoping Mario could confirm this.

When he was greeted with nothing but silence, Toad laughed uncomfortably. "Anyway...you were actually really lucky! I mean, at least the Prince was the only one harmed! Just think of all of the innocent people in the crowd! And Peach, of course! You must have just missed her!"

Even without sensing Luigi's angry glares, Toad soon realized his poor choice of words. "Uh…" he continued, if only to conclude his speech in some way, "...so if you think about it...really fortunate…"

Mario gave no notice of having comprehended this disastrous attempt at raising his spirits. They spent several minutes in an awkward silence, Mario and Toad sipping their drinks occasionally, and Luigi trying unsuccessfully to hail a waiter. Eventually Mario sat up on his bench, and looked out the small window above the table. Luigi followed his gaze, staring out at the moon and stars, framed so perfectly that the scene looked more like picture than reality.

Luigi was no fool; unlike Toad, he knew that there was more to Mario's depressive state than the fireball alone. The moment King Xylander had announced Peach's engagement, Luigi had feared his brother's reaction-although he could never have predicted what had actually transpired. The fireball had most likely been an external expression of his anger-Luigi knew quite well how the suit worked, having acquired one himself from Professor Egad.

Had Peach not even informed him of the arrangement before hand? It appeared not. It was a low blow, thought Luigi, feeling the slightest remorse for rejoicing in Mario's current state of affairs. He knew that his brother cared deeply for Peach, and deserved more than to be tossed aside by her so carelessly. Despite the brothers' differences over the past few years, Luigi was not blind; he recognized Mario's affection for Peach, knew that he could never sit by and watch her wed another.

But what could Luigi say? Regardless of how she had handled the situation, or her own feelings for Mario, Peach surely had no choice but to go through with the marriage. And even under normal circumstances, would she truly choose Mario, an upstart-plumber-turned-hero, over a noble and wealthy prince? Luigi could not say for sure. What he did know was that the consequences of doing so would be many and great, and would mean disaster for the Mushroom Kingdom as it currently stood. There was no question that it would be best for everyone if Mario accepted Peach's engagement and moved on. Luigi only needed to make his brother see that.

"Listen, bro," he began, turning away from the window to face him. Mario did not return the gesture. "I understand how you're feeling right now. Daisy and I were together for a time, as I'm sure you remember. You're not the only one who's fallen for a Princess."

There was an awkward pause. Very rarely were Mario's feelings for Peach so explicitly stated. Toad suddenly looked away from the group, as if pretending not to hear Luigi's words. Even Mario's face, still turned toward the window, reddened ever so slightly at this statement. If anything, it gave Luigi the assurance that his brother was listening.

And so he continued. "But the two of us went our separate ways some time ago, and I've honestly never been better. I feel free, I guess. At first it was hard-that's what you're feeling now. I've been there. But, once Peach is wed, I'm sure you'll feel as liberated as I do. Free to do anything you want, and go wherever you wish. Do you really want to spend the rest of your days protecting Peach-forever?. At some point, you've got to learn to live for yourself."

That caught Mario's attention. He returned from the world outside and stared at Luigi with a look of puzzlement. Yet Luigi sensed some other emotion hidden in that expression, deep within his eyes. Something unsettling. _Is it anger_? he thought, suddenly remembering the fire suit's capabilities. _Surely he wouldn't_. Toad stared anxiously at one brother and then the other, fidgeting all the while.

After what felt like minutes, that suggestion of rage dissipated from Mario's face, being replaced with a slight grin. As if he sensed his friends' worry, he let out what sounded like a mix between a cough and a laugh.

"Don't worry about me, Luigi. Same goes for you, Toad. I'm happy for Peach, truly. She did what she had to do, and I commend her for it."

Toad beamed with a comforting smile. It was clear that he, like Luigi, sensed the falseness of Mario's words. But neither continued to dissect the matter any further. Luigi thought it best to close this topic of discussion, before Toad spit out another foolish utterance.

"That's good, Mario. Best to go on with your duties, I think. It'll keep you busy."

"Actually," replied Mario, adjusting his hat and fixing his hair, "I had a different idea in mind. I only just thought of it a little while ago, and wanted to run it by you. I think that a few days off might do me some good. Give some time for everything to cool over. I wouldn't want what happened today to interfere with negotiations-or to upset the Oakhelms at all-and I fear my being there would do just that."

_Not a bad idea_, Luigi thought to himself. But he didn't see why Mario needed to consult him. Then he was struck by a sudden thought, a possibility. _Could he be asking what I think he's asking? _

"And what about the Princess?" he asked, in an attempt to confirm his suspicion. "Leaving her without a Sworn Protector for such a period would certainly not-"

"I'll need to you fill in for me, brother. At least until after the feast, I think. I know it's a lot to ask, that you already have a lot on your plate. But I wanted to offer the post to you first, before they assign someone less experienced to the task. What do you say?"

It was just what he had suspected, and more than he ever could have hoped for. What Mario was asking meant more time at court, more time with the Oakhelms, a spot of honor at the feast…everything Luigi needed to carry out his aspirations. He looked once again out the small circular window, at the stars shining brightly beyond. _Perhaps my luck never left me after all_, he considered happily, taking another sip of ale.

During all of this reflection Luigi maintained a contemplative expression, hiding his excitement from the others. When he finally responded, he did his best to do so in a tone of general indifference.

"I'll have to make sure my own guard duties are covered, of course. But it shouldn't be a problem." He looked at his brother seriously, trying to reflect what Mario would believe to be the gravity of the task he had bestowed upon him. "Thank you for coming to me with this opportunity-this responsibility, brother. I promise to protect the Princess with my life." _And reap all the benefits. _

Mario smiled, a look of relief on his face. "Thanks, Luigi. I know you won't let me down."

"Wonderful!" Toad shouted. "Now let's eat, shall we? I'd recommend the cheep-cheep pie, Luigi. Although the name's a bit misleading, given the price. Arm-and-a-leg pie, more like..."

Another half hour of sparse conversation transpired before the trio exited the tavern. Unlike most of the city, the stretch of Toadstool way around the restaurant remained brightly lit well into the night. Mario, after a brief farewell, headed south toward the manor. But Luigi, still craving more jovial company, was not ready to retire just yet. Seeking the comforts of his favorite pub, he was forced to walk with Toad back in the direction of the castle.

"Whew," began the toad, patting Luigi on the arm in relief. "To be honest, the main reason I met with him was at Toadsworth's request. He wanted me to pass on a message-he thought it would be best if Mario took a leave of absence, too! Who would have thought that I'd be spared the trouble by Mario himself?"

_It was meant to be then_, thought Luigi, almost laughing as he wondered how disastrously Toad, bookish as he was, would deliver such uncomfortable news.

"Not sure how Toadsworth will feel about you taking his place, though," Toad continued bluntly. "He hadn't mentioned if he had chosen anyone yet. But I'll run it by him, have no worries. I mean, it makes sense, doesn't it? So many people confuse you for Mario anyway, they might not even be able to tell the difference!

Luigi hid his frustration at this comment. If Toad was going to put in a good word for him, then he saw no reason to be anything but amicable, despite his constant tactlessness.

"Well, I'm this way," said Toad. "Lots to do in the castle. It's a crazy time, with all of those seedlers running around and asking questions. See you, Luigi."

As he watched the butler hobble up the rising street toward the Goomba Gate, Luigi took advantage of his solitude, trying to fully comprehend all that had unfolded in such a short amount of time. Not only had he left the welcome ceremony as the superior Mario Brother, but he would be taking his brother's place as head of guard for the foreseeable future! He did not care what Toadsworth thought of this; he didn't care what Peach, Toad, or anyone else thought. Only the Oakhelms mattered. He would have ample opportunities to prove his value to them-to show that he was not as prone to making such egregious mistakes as Mario was.

Luigi turned right at the fork, along a road that ran parallel to the castle walls. Eventually he reached the Power Pub, a venue even more likely to be entertaining some of his fellow guards, and one that he hoped would provide a more revelatory atmosphere. He had performed his duty as a brother, consoled Mario in his time of need. The rest of the night was Luigi's to enjoy.

But, as he stared at the wooden double doors that were not wholly successful in containing the noise within, he suddenly found himself hesitating. The lure of drink and music, of friends and celebration, did not seem as appealing now that he stood within their grasp. _What's to stop this evening from turning into last?_ he asked himself, considering the toll another restless night's sleep would have on him. He thought about the chance he had been given, and the effort it would take to execute his plan successfully. He had gotten through this day relatively well, given his gallivanting the night before. But it seemed wrong to test his luck-especially when it had already given him so much that day.

_I'll need a clear head these next few days_, he realized, the noise from inside the pub seeming to decrease with each passing second.

And so he turned away before he could be persuaded otherwise, back down the road from whence he came. For the second night in a row, Luigi's bed was calling to him, and Luigi felt obligated to answer. _The Sworn Protector needs all the rest he can get._


	10. Chapter III: Parties and Partings (Pt 1)

**Chapter Three: Parties and Partings**

He stared out at the setting sun from an open window, the only one in his bedchamber. The rest of the castle was bustling with activity, he knew, with the Princess, the kitchen and serving toads, and countless others doing their parts to prepare for the feast that would commence within the hour. But he was not concerned with such trivial matters. For him, tonight was not about the celebration, or the Princess' engagement, or even the war that had brought about this new alliance. His mind was occupied by a far different pursuit; one that, if all went according to plan, would surely benefit the realms of Toadstool and Oakhelm just as much as their impending union.

The evening was cool, but the figure did not shy away from the breezes that struck him head on. They seemed to keep his mind alert, which he was grateful for-he would need all his wits about him that night. He had already been assured by his contact earlier that day that the necessary precautions would be taken, that his men would be diligent. _Surely he would not choose tonight of all nights to return_, he kept telling himself. But in the rare event that he was wrong, he needed to know that no mistakes would be made.

He wrapped himself in a cloak, leaving only his face exposed to the winds that battered the walls of the castle's high towers. _It has to be tonight_, he kept telling himself. Waiting any longer would surely mean risk of destroying all that he had worked so hard to build. And besides-the problem had gone unaddressed for far too long, always lacking a straightforward solution. He had been lucky, to have found one so simple-and one that kept his direct involvement at a minimum.

Despite his resolve, the consequences of his actions, were they to be revealed, had not eluded him. Even if he were to remain above suspicion, the exposure of the attack for what it was would ruin the Princess, would render her new alliance useless, and could even lose them the war. But he had assessed the risks-and still determined that the benefits would far outweigh the costs, in due time. He would never have moved forward otherwise.

No, he was certain that in a few hours' time, their greatest obstacle to imminent victory and long-lasting peace would be eliminated. Their target had caused far too much trouble, for far too many people, for far too long.

_But no more_, the cloaked figure said to himself, abandoning the open window so that he might prepare for the feast, and for the successful conclusion of a well-executed plan.

How much easier things would be, once Mario was out of the picture.

* * *

The caravan of partygoers stretched farther than the eye could see, and yet Peach never wavered as she stood beside the dining hall's entryway, warmly and patiently greeting them all.

She was wearing her finest attire—a sleeveless pink dress with a wide, balloon-shaped skirt ending just below her knees, and pearl earrings and necklace that matched her long, white-silk gloves. Atop her hair, curled and styled in a low bun, rested her shimmering four-pointed crown. It was an heirloom that had been forged in the days of legend-a thin gold frame studded with four large gems, two each of ruby and sapphire. Despite their beauty, Peach often detested those precious stones, knowing that the crown would be so much lighter and easier to bear without them.

She looked and acted every bit the Princess, shaking hands and making light conversation with this Shellhaven merchant and that Redwood atttendant, before each of them passed under the arched entryway in search of their respective tables. But inwardly she was plagued by discomfort, a feeling caused in part by the combined effects of her tight dress, her heavy crown, and her unsatisfied hunger. The fact that she had hardly had time to eat anything all day made the line of people separating her from a good meal that much more unendurable.

And yet, on top of such trivial pains as these, the Princess was also struggling to hide any evidence of her broken spirit. It was a task, she soon realized, that made ignoring an empty stomach easy by comparison. For every so often, in between greetings, Peach would still glance down the long row of attendees, hoping to find him walking toward her. _The feast hasn't even started yet, _she said to herself optimistically_. There's still time. _

But deep down she knew it was an empty hope. As infinite as the procession seemed, the one person she truly wanted to see would certainly not be among its ranks.

_Oh, Mario…_

She had spent the afternoon wondering if tonight her Sworn Protector would return to her service, ending his foolish reprieve from his duties and returning to Peach's side, where he belonged and was needed. Luigi had been a satisfactory replacement, shadowing her as his brother did wherever her business took her. But he was not Mario-so much had been obvious to her almost at once. She had noticed his inattentiveness on several occasions, as well as his frequent discussions with the Redwood guardsmen and their leader, Commander Querkis. Never before had she missed Mario's constant attentiveness, or his tendency to be overcautious when it came to her safety, or the single-mindedness of his responsibilities. But seeing the alternative had only made her miss him more-not necessarily for fear of her safety, but rather for the comfort of knowing that she was in the presence of someone who cared far more about her than she herself ever would.

So when it was Luigi once more who greeted her that evening, dressed in the suit and tie she had imagined Mario might where, she could not help but be disappointed. He had explained unnecessarily that Mario would not be in attendance, that he had been sent in his stead. Explicitly stating all of this had felt to Peach like salt in an open wound. Nevertheless, she had thanked Luigi with all of the kindness she could muster, holding back both her anger and tears.

What reason could he have to continue his personal banishment? If it were truly the Oakhelms he was worried about, Peach could see no better opportunity than a feast to rectify his mistakes. Apologies always went down better when made amongst such merriment, so she had learned during her reign. She had thought about explaining this to him in a letter; but, given her last message, and the embarrassment the thought of it still provoked in her, she wondered if he would even open it.

But the possibility that Mario's absence had less to do with their new allies and more to do with her own actions had not eluded Peach. She found herself wondering what she herself would have done in his place, had she learned of Mario's engagement to some strange woman, in front of so many people. _If only I could talk to him_, she had told herself earlier that evening, as Toadette had forced her into the confines of her corset. _If I could tell him how quickly it had all happened, surely he would understand..._

It all seemed so foolish now, knowing that she would not get that chance. The personal matters that they so desperately needed to address-the letter, her engagement and its repercussions-would have been difficult to discuss in the company of so many people. Mario and Peach had always been careful in their meetings, even in the safest of circumstances. Now, with so much depending on her imminent marriage, the sight of the two of them meeting alone would certainly have been cause for speculation, she knew.

_Now is not the time_, she concluded to herself. _After these formalities are over with, we can talk for as long as we need. Soon enough. _

If there was any consolation to the endless onslaught of handshakes, hugs, and cordial kisses Peach was forced to endure, it was that it effectively distracted her from thoughts of Mario. Luigi, despite being right by her side, stood as still and silent as a statue throughout the proceedings. And Toadsworth had made his way into the dining hall some time ago, keeping company with those most distinguished guests already at the high table. She envied him, seated comfortably and likely snacking on hors d'oeuvres; but she faced her guests alone and with her head held high, maintaining a joyous expression as the next one approached.

"Ravishing, Princess," commented Esperanza Pianta in an operatic voice as the pair exchanged pecks on the cheek. "Absolutely _ravishing_. I must thank you again for inviting me to dine with all of your powerful, important friends."

She was a large woman even by her species' standard, and equally as rotund. Wearing a flowing white dress that highlighted the darkness of her orange skin, she gave the overall impression of a snowy volcano at the onset of eruption. Her mountainous power was also evident in her slow steps, as if she were taking care not to shake the ground upon which she stepped. Peach knew her greatest strength was not in her size, but rather her voice, a booming yet sultry instrument that was merely complemented by her enormous figure.

"Oh, nonsense," the Princess replied sweetly. "You know you're always welcome at court. It is I who should be thanking you, for agreeing to sing for us tonight."

"Well, it's hardly a burden on my part, darling. I've missed performing in Pebbleport _ever_ so much- the wind at my back, the cool ocean mist soothing my skin, the cries of the crowds. So much _energy_. I only hope to be received as well here in the capital."

Peach smiled, understanding such feelings of idleness. "Well, I can't promise you the sea, but I'm sure the acoustics in the hall will be to your liking. And I don't think there is any doubt that the guests will adore your music."

At this Esperanza narrowed her beady eyes and shifted her substantial weight, placing her left hand on corresponding hip. "Now I thought that's why you brought these tree folks here in the first place? To give us back our seas?"

Peach comprehended her meaning well enough. With enemy ships blockading the harbors of the Shorelands, trade and tourism within the region were at a complete standstill. Once lucrative vacation spots such as Pebbleport were now "ghost towns," if the reports from refugees could believed. But Peach had trouble seeing underpopulation in and of itself as a problem, especially given the conditions in the overcrowded capital. The food supply in the coastal towns was ample, she had been told; the main problem afflicting the piantas and nokis of the Shorelands seemed to be boredom and idleness at the loss of the visitors they were so used to entertaining. The only reason Esperanza herself had fled was to seek out the large and enthusiastic audiences who had abandoned her seaside stage. Despite the drama with which the singer had recounted her story, Peach sensed that it was hardly one of the most tragic in the kingdom.

Before she could respond, Esperanza laughed melodically, causing her whole body to shake with near-seismic force. "Oh darling, it was merely a _joke_. I'll do what I can to woo the Redwoods with my voice and looks...under the condition that you try to do the same." She winked subtly at Peach before turning her massive frame toward the other side of the arched entrance, where King and Prince Oakhelm were greeting guests in a similar manner. "Shouldn't have any trouble pleasing that one, should you?" she whispered loudly in the Princess' ear.

Peach, taken aback by the pianta's bluntness, tried her best not to blush. "I...he is quite handsome, of course."

She laughed again, her trembling causing Peach herself to shake in their close proximity. "A _delightful_ pair, the two of you will make! Now darling, I will be very hurt if I'm not asked to sing at the wedding. The big day requires an even bigger song, and who better to sing it then myself? Do tell me when once the date is set, and I will clear my schedule in a flash."

And with that Esperanza proceeded languidly toward the Oakhelms, shaking hands with the King and Prince before passing into the dining hall. Despite being on good terms with the entertainer, Peach was glad to see her go. _If I talk as much with everyone else, I'll be here all night, _she reminded herself.

She had almost forgotten about the Prince's proximity, despite the two being separated by only the width of the entryway. Following Esperanza's reminder, she found her eyes looking in his direction far more frequently. Much to her displeasure, she had had little opportunity over the past few days to converse with Emory. _My fiance_, she was constantly reminding herself. Besides lunches and short meetings, all of which were attended by dozens of people, they had seldom even been in each other's presence.

_How am I to marry someone I have hardly ever spoken to?_ She knew that, from a practical standpoint, the wedding could proceed even if the pair had never laid eyes on each other. But such unfamiliarity with a person she would presumably be spending the rest of her life with made her feel uncomfortable. Her mother, despite her best efforts, had simply not lived long enough to properly guide Peach through this stage in her life.

The Princess refused to be discouraged by this initial hiccup, however; there was still plenty of time to get to know her intended. _Maybe even tonight_, she thought to herself, wondering if they would be seated beside one another at the feast, and remembering that, if nothing else, they would at least share a dance. _Surely such proximity will lead to some sort of conversation._

It was only then that Mario creeped into the the foreground of her thoughts once more. The prospect of reconciling with him, while simultaneously trying to build a relationship with her husband-to-be, seemed wholly contradictory to her. She felt guilty; and yet which one of these men she was hurting, she could not yet say.

At one point, when Peach looked briefly across the portal toward Emory, his own eyes, shifting their gaze, met hers. Surprised, she simply smiled and waved, rubbing the pearl of her necklace as she always did when nervous. _What is there to be nervous about? _she thought, recognizing her instinctive habit. He was certainly handsome, dressed in a fitted puce suit jacket, with his unruly hair somehow coerced into a semi-tame ponytail. But Peach had been in the company of handsome men before, many of them also princes from faraway lands. Perhaps it was the aloofness of this particular young man-a characteristic that set him apart from those other cocky suitors who had visited her over the years-that made her feel so uneasy. As he returned a sheepish smile, there was still that look of melancholy on his face, heightened by the sadness in his eyes that seemed all too permanent. She found herself wishing she could interpret that sadness, or determine its cause. He was such a mystery, the man she was set to marry. If ever the two found the time, she suspected that there would be much for him to tell her, and much for her to listen to and discover, in the weeks leading up to their wedding day.

Peach's daydreaming, to her own dismay, did nothing to hasten the pace of the procession. She rejoiced inwardly when an attendee merely shook her hand silently before walking into the hall beyond, likely as anxious as she was to begin eating; or when groups of people came forth together to speak with her, rather than doing so individually. So it was with Yoshi and the members of his herd who had come at her request, ten in all. The others stood back as their leader approached to speak on their behalf.

"I'm so glad you could come," said Peach, shaking hands with her old...friend? acquaintance? She and Yoshi had known each other for years, but the herd leader had always kept a cool distance. It was a known fact that the yoshi species deplored their fealty to the Mushroom Kingdom; and Peach's ancestors, following the conquest of the Grasslands by King Apricon III, had always held an uneasy rule over the twelve herds. But, given Yoshi's friendship with Mario and his willingness to fight in the name of the realm, she often saw him as an exception- perhaps a beacon of hope for a better relationship in the future.

"Couldn't reject an official request from our princess," replied Yoshi. The harshness in his oddly high-pitched voice did not go unnoticed by Peach. "Not when we were already in the capital, bringing our younglings to safety. Oh, hello Luigi. Was hoping to get a chance to see Mario. Is he not coming?"

Yoshi looked to Luigi for a response, but the stand-in Sworn Protector remained silent. "He's...indisposed this evening," Peach lied, wondering how much Yoshi already knew.

"Hmph! Indisposed. Let me guess, sick with a fever? From what I've heard, Mario's been having some trouble controlling his temperature. I suppose he doesn't want the Prince to catch it...not again!"

His followers sniggered at the joke. Peach smiled, trying to think of a way to steer the conversation away from Mario. Part of her wanted nothing more than to direct them onward; but she did not want to come off as rude, not to guests from the most wayward region of her kingdom.

"Well, I'm sorry for the seriousness of your travels, but am delighted that you took the time to share a meal with all of us. I've requested all the freshest and sweetest fruits to be served at your table, rest assured.

This seemed to brighten the solemn expressions of the group ever so slightly. If there was ever a species whose heart was to be won through its stomach, thought Peach, it was the yoshis.

"This celebration seems a bit soon, don't you think?" Yoshi asked, the momentary distraction of food already waning. "Have our new friends already defeated Bowser? Will we go home to find our fields safe again?"

_He's come to bicker_, thought Peach to herself, realizing there was nothing she could do to soothe his obvious displeasure. He was no diplomat, this leader from a wild land to the west. So she too shed her political facade, and responded to him instead as a friend.

"If it were up to me, Yoshi, we'd be discussing battle plans rather than dinner plans this evening. Such formalities seem silly in light of all that has happened, don't think I don't realize that. But I am at the will of my people, just as much as you are. And my people want to see me dine with the Oakhelms, with...with my betrothed."

Yoshi snorted. "Yes, congratulations are in order, I suppose. But I hope you don't drag this engagement out too long. Might I remind you that the West needs aid."

_And the North, South, and East_, said Peach to herself. _Yours aren't the only people caught up in this war_. "Have you had no luck uniting the herds, then?"

He snorted once more through his bulbous snout. "It's hard enough to keep the Yoshi herd in my control, in times like these. Our allies would surely join us, if we had bigger numbers and a chance of success. But the Boshi herd won't even consider an alliance under my command-not surprising, given our history with those savages. And they've convinced _their_ allies to do the same, even those we've had no bad blood with in the past. We're all willing to fight, be sure of that; but if we can't do it together, there's no chance at victory."

_Such stubbornness will lose us the war_, Peach thought, hiding her frustration. She had never had time to follow herd politics in the Grasslands-alliances seemed to change as frequently and regularly as the seasons-and she had no intention of bettering her understanding tonight.

"Perhaps a feast of your own would do you all some good," was all that she said in response. Before Yoshi could do more than give a look of disgust, she raised her hand to direct the group to the dining room-a suggestion that some of them seemed more than willing to follow.

"Enjoy, all of you."

_Too long again_, she said to herself as yoshis bowed before her. _We'll be eating at sunrise at this rate._

Resolving to be as brief as possible without seeming rude from thereon, Peach quickly turned the endless retinue into a fast-moving assembly line. Smile, welcome, handshake, repeat; the pattern only interrupted by the occasional hug, kiss, or mindless chatter. She discovered that most people were as eager as she was to move out of the corridor, and so was met with very little resistance in the form of drawn out greetings or extended conversations.

Sticking to this rapid pace, within half an hour an end to the line was in sight. And only twenty minutes later, Peach ushered the final congregation of guests-elders from the eastern Kong clan-into the dining room, now teeming with the sounds of hundreds of hungry people.

"Finally," she said to Luigi, as the great wooden doors closed, leaving them alone in the corridor with the Oakhelms. The worst was behind her-she need only wait for the last of the guests to settle in before making her own grand entrance with the Prince. It would be a quick task, walking hand-in-hand with Emory in sight of all the eager spectators toward the high table; yet it was the one part of the evening she could not help but dread. It had nothing to do with the Prince himself, but rather the nightmares she had suffered from regarding the act. They had been almost exactly the same over the past few nights: she and the prince would begin their walk, holding hands as they were supposed to, with the dining hall packed with people as it was now. But the myriad faces of the onlookers had all looked alike. Koopa, toad, pianta, and yoshi had all borne the visage of Mario, forming a sea of mustached men that glared at her accusingly.

_Just a dream_, Peach kept telling herself, understanding its meaning all too well. She had accepted the reality that not even one Mario-the real one-would be there to witness her debut with her husband-to-be. Nevertheless, as the King and Prince approached her, she found herself shaking off feelings of apprehension and shame.

"Absolutely delightful!" King Xylandar announced, patting his son on the shoulder and kissing Peach on both cheeks. Even after so many greetings, he looked as jubilant as he had at the welcome ceremony. She found herself envying the man, who seemed to feed off the energy of such crowds; such endless socializing had the tendency to exhaust her, now more than ever. "It was such a joy to meet all of the wonderful creatures your kingdom fosters, Princess. Such happy folk! Wouldn't you agree, Emory?"

He turned his toothy smile to his son, who responded only with a toothless grin. But the King continued to stare at him, as if indicating the need for him to compliment Peach as well. Eventually he obliged, clearing his throat in the manner of one restarting a long-unused engine.

"To wed such a beautiful woman, savior of such a pleasant people, is an honor of which I am not worthy, my Princess."

Peach tried not to blush. Despite his somberness, his baritone voice possessed a mesmerizing nature, one that soothed and mystified her all at once. Each time he had spoken in her presence over the past few days-seldom although it had been-the effect it had on her had always been the same. His short comments and even briefer responses to his father's questions sounded to her ears like elaborately constructed phrases, with elegant words and syntax that gave his speech a mellifluous quality. It was the execution of these remarks, always laced with a hint of sadness, that intrigued Peach the most.

"Yes, well put, Emory," Xylander responded cheerfully. Peach wondered if she had ever met a father and son so unalike. "With so much to talk about, news of the war was hardly discussed."

It was a comment that irked Peach, even more so than it might have in a less exhausted and hungry state. He spoke as if his hundred handshakes had effectively put an end to the kingdom's woes. His indifference worried the Princess, who, despite Mario and Emory and all of her other personal troubles, was never distracted enough to forget about the unrest all around her.

"I'm pleased to hear it, your Majesty," she began. "But let me remind you that most in attendance tonight are far more fortunate than most within my kingdom. Even those just outside the castle walls have not remained unscathed. Thousands have fled here, homes abandoned or destroyed. They may not have greeted you tonight, but they too are my people, and casualties of Bowser's war."

There was a hint of malice in her voice that had not gone unnoticed by the Oakhelms. Xylander's prolific smile seemed to wane ever so slightly, and the Prince suddenly looked gloomier than ever. She suspected that Toadsworth would have scolded her for making such a comment, had he been present. Even Peach knew she had spoken out of line, mentioning such troubling topics during the festivities, especially to those who had already promised to help her. But war tactics had hardly been discussed at all over the past few days, conversation instead being dominated by preparations for the feast. Peach was as eager as Esperenza or Yoshi to take back her lands, and could not help but feel enraged that her knew allies did not share her passion. Yet it was foolish to let her anger show, even as minutely as she had just done.

Hoping to rectify her words, she smiled once more. "Do pardon me, now of course is not the time to discuss such things. Not when there is so much to celebrate. I only hope that, after the feast is over, we can redirect our focus to the matter that united us in the first place. On returning peace to those who need it most. Surely we cannot...go forward with the wedding, until we have achieved this?"

The mention of the wedding seemed to lighten the mood again. The King smiled as brightly as ever, and put his arm on Peach's shoulder. "Never fear, Princess. We understand that such troubles burden you. Do know that we are as eager to eradicate them as yourself. Mark my words, starting tomorrow we _will_ move forward in dealing with this wicked Koopa King and his barbarian army. With the power of Toadstool and Oakhelm united, their days in the Mushroom Kingdom are most certainly numbered."

It was a rhetoric that comforted Peach, now wanting even more for this feast to end quickly. "That is all I ask, Your Majesty."

"Oh, no need for such formalities!" he responded warmly. "'Your Highness' is no way to address you future father! Now, best to get ready to make our entrance, don't you think?"

The trio took their positions outside the tall doors, with Peach and Emory standing side by side as they awaited their reopening. The King stood well behind them, in order to give the royal couple all of the time they deserved to "bask in the cheers of the crowd," as he had put it. Luigi and the other guards flanked them on either side.

It was the first time since their meeting that the Prince and Princess, the ruler of one kingdom and the heir to another, the future of two royal houses, found themselves alone together. After making so much small talk that evening, Peach found herself at a loss for what to say to Emory. He seemed too worthy for the idle chatter she had used on everyone else.

To her relief, it was he who broke the silence.

"I must warn you of my father's possible deception, Princess."

It was not at all what she had expected him to say, and sounded not nearly as sweet as his usual speech. "I'm sorry?" she asked, wondering if she had not heard him properly. She looked up at him, to find him already staring at her. His eyes again drew her in, with the dark grey irises surrounding wide pupils giving the impression of deep caves. What tragedies lurked in their depths, she could only guess.

"I only mean that he may not, as he claims, share your eagerness for engaging in battle. The promise he made to you is the same one he made to many of your guests, so I heard."

Peach did not grasp Emory's meaning. "I take it that it is a sincere promise, then."

"Or perhaps an empty one. Might I remind you that no armies of our own accompanied us to your kingdom. My father is in control of them, and I have heard nothing that makes me believe they will be sent for in the near future. I am merely advising you to be patient."

She was reminded again of their unlikeness, the King and Prince. Having been pacified by Xylander only minutes before, she was now returning to that state of frustration she had been trying so hard to suppress, all thanks to Emory. But how sincere was this warning? She thought again about her observations of the father and son, thus far-how Xylander had always dominated conversation, with Emory only speaking when necessary or when his father called upon him. She had attributed this aloofness to his mysterious nature, emphasized by his alien attractiveness. But, looking at him now, hearing him contradict his father so, she wondered if she had been misjudging him all along. Reanalyzing his behavior over the past few days, she suddenly wondered if he was merely acting like some spoiled child, dragged about by his father and grumpy because of it. The King had comforted her, with his promise of action; why should she trust this young man-who seemed so uninterested in every situation he was forced into-regarding political or military matters?

There was no reason for her to distrust the King, who had been so forthcoming with her since his arrival; and, she concluded, many reasons to be wary of the Prince, who seemed to be doing everything in his power to ignore his predicament. _My betrothed._ Now, when she stared back into his eyes, the mystery seemed less alluring. It was instead superseded by a wholly different feeling for the utterly miserable figure whom they belonged to.

She abruptly broke her gaze with him, and faced forward toward the wooden doors. "Thank you for the warning, My Prince." She now fully recognized the coolness in her voice, yet did nothing to mask it. "But my patience has run thin. Your father seems an honest man, and I see no reason to distrust his conviction. If he is prepared to take action, then I shall follow his lead-just as you seem to be doing."

The Prince continued to stare at her, unresponsive to her underhanded scolding. Peach chastised herself for it-for again letting her anger take hold of her. But she did not apologize. On the contrary, his silence seemed to support her new-found suspicions, and led her to believe that her insult had been justified.

Neither of them had the opportunity to say anything more. For, only second later, the great oak doors finally opened once more, exposing them to the tumult within. Unwillingly, she grabbed Emory's hand, and the pair proceeded forth amidst thundering applause that echoed off the ceilings of the lofty hall. Peach smiled back at her guests, forcing herself to think happy thoughts: the King's assurance of action, the promise of a good meal, the joy which others seemed to have for her-anything that would distract her from the disappointment she now felt for the man walking beside her.


End file.
